


Short-Lived Diamond

by SirTeateiMoonlight



Series: The Passionate Soul [6]
Category: Xenoblade Chronicles
Genre: Gen, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-24
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2018-08-17 02:34:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 29,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8127028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SirTeateiMoonlight/pseuds/SirTeateiMoonlight
Summary: A princess's childhood is her mother's life story.





	1. Offer

Clara ran.

She wasn't paying any attention to where she was running, but it didn't matter in the least. All she cared about was getting as far from Colony 9 as possible. It wasn't like anyone was chasing her - quite the opposite, actually - but it was still of utmost importance.

After a while, she tripped over what felt like a metallic tree branch, which she hadn't seen in the twilight darkness. Tumbling to the ground, she looked around to find she had run into the nearest Mechon wreckage site, a collection of Mechon-based debris that had fallen from higher parts of the Bionis. It wasn't a complete dead end, but now that she was on the ground, the emotional energy that had propelled her was quickly vanishing. Collapsing onto her front, she began crying into the grass.

It took several minutes to wrench her mind back into gear. Slowly sitting up, she started trying to wipe her face clean, with little success. She did however manage to get clear enough vision to see that she was not alone: someone else was standing in the clearing, about twenty metres in front of her.

He was an older man, wearing a long brown cloak with a fire gem pendant, and would have looked somewhere in his high forties or low fifties if his hair wasn't already pure silver. Yet he held the commanding posture of someone half his age.

Still primarily upset, Clara did not engage in politeness. "Go away! Leave me alone!"

The man didn't budge, or even react to the outburst. She couldn't read his face in the darkness at this distance, but it seemed to have remained unchanged as well. She decided to ignore him, turning herself to face where she came from.

No sooner than she had turned her back, the man seemed to suddenly appear nearby and calmly sit down beside her.

"W-who do you think you are?" Clara was pretty sure the man wasn't from Colony 9; while she didn't know everyone by sight, she thought she would recognize someone of this poise and hairstyle. The realization started to turn her mind away from lashing out and towards suspicion - there was generally no reason to be collecting from other colonies' wreckage sites.

The man let out a quiet sort of chuckle. "For now, I am the shoulder you need to cry on, the outlet for your emotion. Once that is done, and I understand your plight, I will answer your questions." It was a soft yet definitive voice, in a tone that suggested he had said the same before to others, yet in a curious accent that she did not recognize.

Clara didn't approve of how this stranger was telling her what to do, but after considering his words for a moment, she realized that this was exactly what she needed.

"You...You'll _listen_ to me?"

"For as long as is necessary."

After a few seconds of deliberation, Clara started talking. Ten years ago, when she was fifteen, she was a babysitter for a family of five, with children of ages 6, 4, and 3. She had been somewhat negligent in the past, resulting in a few avoidable bumps and upset stomachs, but those mistakes were fading ever further into the past - she very strongly wished to have children in the future, and was putting significant effort into learning the ropes early. Then, one day, she was talking with one of her friends through the kitchen window while preparing food. Engaged in the conversation, she failed to notice that the oldest child had mischievously slathered butter over the handle of a knife, and as a result of an emphatic gesture, the knife flew across the room and struck the youngest child in the abdomen. The child was okay in the end, but her reputation was permanently ruined: no one would ever trust her near kids again.

Still, she clung to the hope that she would be forgiven one day. At age twenty-one, she married an immigrant from Colony 7, who said he was told her story by his friends but did not care for the past. She embraced what looked to be the perfect opportunity for her to begin motherhood. But whenever the opportunity arose, the husband backed off, claiming he was not ready. She accepted this and waited.

Today was the day it all fell apart. After asking one more time whether they could start a family yet, the husband said he was no longer sure it was a good idea at all, claiming that she would have a very hard time raising a child in a colony where everyone knew of her "reputation". Aghast that she had been betrayed by the one person she trusted, she fled the colony.

Clara felt somewhat relieved once she had finished recounting her tale. She wasn't sure she had ever been allowed to rattle through the entire thing before without being interrupted. But the next thing she felt was a heavy uncertainty of what would come next.

The man, having listened to the whole story without sound or movement, broke the new silence. "Your journey through life thus far has been difficult and painful, being denied the one thing you wish for over a mistake that all refuse to forgive."

Clara shook her head and scoffed. "When you put it like that, it sounds really...almost flat-out mean of them, doesn't it?"

"I am not here to judge their opinions."

"Then...why _are_ you here, anyway?"

The man nodded and turned his head towards her. "Yes, I did say I would answer your questions once your feelings were subdued." He looked back into the sky and took a deep breath.

"My name is Sorean. I come from a place far beyond the sky, perched on the head of the Bionis, known as Alcamoth. We are a peaceful tribe of many pursuits and talents, but we do have a problem: our people are acutely xenophobic, to the point of believing themselves morally superior to all others simply by birthright. In an attempt to dissuade this mentality, many like myself have been travelling across the Bionis, looking for select Homs from other settlements to introduce into a range of positions in our society."

As a purveyor of fiction, Clara instinctively knew what this could mean. "You...You've picked _me_ to come join you?"

Sorean tilted his head in thought. "When I initially arrived here, I had no specific candidates in mind. But while I was waiting, considering my options for a more directed search tomorrow, you appeared before me. And it is clear from your plight that you are the perfect choice."

"...why is that?"

"You are perhaps the most uniquely qualified person I have met thus far for the current open position: that of a man's Second Consort."

The terminology rattled around Clara's head for a bit. "...um...er...Okay, let me think this over a bit...So you have a guy. And he wants a consort. A second one, he already has one, so I guess you can get more done with two of them, or maybe the first one's dead. And...drat, what's "consort" mean again? I've heard that a few years ago...uh...no, I forgot, sorry."

"In the simplest sense of the word, "consort" has the same meaning as "spouse"."

"RIGHT okay yes. So that means..." Her words trailed off as the realization came through. "You want me to come and be someone's second wife?"

"That is indeed the cleanest way to put it."

"Well then why would I be any good?" Clara became somewhat agitated. "I've already tried the wife thing, and look where that got me, just as much nowhere as-"

Sorean raised his hand calmly yet firmly. "While the position is as wife, that is of secondary importance. The true reason you are the perfect match is this: the intent of my search is to find a mother."

There was a long pause.

"...y...you're serious? This isn't just some joke at my expense?"

"That would be of dreadful taste. No, this is a legitimate opportunity for you to find the life you've been searching for."

Clara's eyes narrowed. "And how do I know I can trust you?"

Sorean nodded slowly. "Yes, that would be the biggest hurdle to clear. You have already been betrayed in your quest for motherhood; of course you would be wary of any apparent chance to begin again. I cannot magically gain your trust. However, I will do this. I shall give you three days to come to a decision. In that time, you may ask any questions of me, and I will answer them to the best of my ability, keeping in mind that there are some things I am forbidden to say to anyone."

"Why is that?"

"As I have said before, our people are highly xenophobic. Out of paranoia for our safety, there are several things I cannot reveal until you have expressed an almost irreversable desire to accept my offer."

"And if I don't?"

"Then I shall take my search elsewhere, and you shall never hear of me again."

A stray cloud caused the moon to flicker. Clara suddenly realized that she was quite tired. "Okay I need to go to bed now. I'll be back tomorrow though. Are you going to be here?"

"I will remain at this site for the three days. I have my own provisions and accomodations; you need not offer me any. I only ask this: that you keep knowledge of me as minimal as possible. It would do neither of us any good to publicize my presence here."

"Super, okay then. See you tomorrow." She turned away and started walking back to the colony, planning to return to her parents' house for the night instead of her husband's, as they were conveniently away at Colony 6 for a couple more days. She wasn't currently sure what to make of the stranger's offer, but she had to admit it was very enticing.

Sorean settled himself down in a corner of the clearing and prepared to go to sleep. He rather enjoyed living in the wilderness for a few days at a time every now and then. It was a nice change of pace and a welcome reprieve from his wife, who had been quite secretive and moody recently - more than usual, anyway.

* * *

As Sorean expected, Clara returned to the wreckage site almost immediately after breakfast the next morning.

"You look well," he began.

"Really? That's good I guess, I didn't get much sleep." A short pause. "Wait, did I ever tell you my name? I'm Clara Grentels."

Sorean nodded. "And that is your husband's surname?"

"...yeah, I guess. My birth name was Apiar. My great-grandfather was a beekeeper, so he took a name based on "apiary". Say, what's the name of the man you're looking for a wife- uh, consort for?"

"His surname is Antiqua."

"Antiqua...sounds nice, like some posh guy with a lot of heirlooms, or something. What does he do?"

Sorean thought for a moment. "He is a political man, aligned with those who are currently in power. His strengths are intellectual rather than physical."

Clara nodded thoughtfully. "I never much liked the big beefy guys anyway, always so full of themselves. But I'm not so sure about being a politics person. Would I have to do anything special?"

"You would not be expected to participate in his profession should you not wish it. You will however have to tolerate some rules and regulations that the average citizen need not concern themselves with."

"Makes sense. What kind of stuff would that be?"

"For example, you will have to be very careful expressing your opinions amongst the general public, lest a comment be taken out of context and cause an uproar."

"Hmm, I see."

Silence fell for a few moments as Clara considered where to go next.

"What's it like in...uh...drat, I forget where you said you're from. But what's it like there?"

"It is called Alcamoth," Sorean reminded patiently. "It is a city of far greater scope than your colony, with a culture heavily steeped in history and tradition. Nestled to the rear of the Bionis' head, surrounded by a vast sea and many islands, isolated from all other settlements."

"So it's big? Big enough that one person isn't known to the whole place?"

"That is indeed true of the general populace. However, as Mr. Antiqua is a very important figure, you would be much more in the public eye than the average citizen. I would not hesitate to say you would indeed be known to everyone."

"But I don't want to be known to anyone, that's what kind of ruined things here for me."

"You may rest assured that, if you wish for your story to remain private, not a word of it will be spilled to anyone. I have no interest in revealing your past and potentially ruining both your image and mine."

There was another long gap in the conversation.

Something occurred to Clara that she had intended to ask earlier. "So, if you're looking for a _second_ consort...um, what happened to the first?"

"Ah." Sorean paused to consider his answer. "I am unsure how well you will take this piece of information; it has driven off many a candidate in the past."

"Well let's hear it then, I don't want to skip the important stuff."

"Very well. Mr. Antiqua's First Consort remains alive and well, and they are currently raising an adolescent son together. Now you are surely thinking, why search for a second consort if the first still lives? The answer is that the government allows a man to take two wives, or a woman to take two husbands, if one of them is not native to Alcamoth. It is part of a program to incentivise the introduction of foreigners to the city, and indeed the acceptance of foreigners in general."

"...really?" Clara wasn't sure what to make of the idea of sharing wife duties with a stranger. "Won't it be kind of difficult for him to deal with being part of two different families?"

"The intent is that both wives and their children are of the same household and family, not segregated into halves. Many think of it as a relationship midway between siblings and cousins, with the two mothers sharing resources to care for their offspring. But that said, it is indeed not a lifestyle that everyone can tolerate. Mr. Antiqua has assured me that he is up to the task, and he is not known for taking back his word."

The two combined for the longest silence of the day so far.

"I...I need to go think this over by myself for a bit."

"By all means. You know where to find me."

Clara hesitantly walked off. As an only child, she had never lived with someone of similar age before, and had no idea what to expect in terms of becoming some sort of sister-in-law. If she had the choice, she would prefer to be an "only wife", but at the same time it could very well be a minor price to pay for the overall opportunity.

* * *

Clara did not return to the site until the next day's afternoon. Even then, upon arrival, she simply remained quiet as if trying to decide whether something was appropriate to ask.

"You have a deep concern on your mind," Sorean concluded.

"...yeah, I guess." She fidgeted for a while before continuing. "I don't really want to make a decision until I meet this Mr. Antiqua guy. But obviously I can't, because it's what, more than a week for a one-way trip up to the Bionis' head? I'm just guessing since no one's ever gone up there, correct me if I'm wrong. But if you only wanted to spend three days down here, it'd be a massive waste of time for you to spend half a month carting me up and down just for me to end up saying no. So...yeah, that's what's up."

Sorean nodded slowly. "Your thought process is indeed valid. The trek from here to Alcamoth is not a journey to be made on a whim, and of course one would wish to know everything they can about their potential spouse before making a commitment to them." He thought for a moment. "Therefore, the time is right for me to reveal that I am Mr. Antiqua."

Clara nodded before realizing what he had actually said. "Wait, what?"

"I am Sorean Antiqua. I seek a Second Consort not for another, but for myself."

"...oh." Pause. " _Oh._ " Another pause. "But aren't...aren't you a bit old?"

Sorean had to chuckle a bit. "If my age is the first thing that comes to your mind as a potential issue, I would call that a good sign."

"...well, I guess. But you're like what, twenty, thirty years ahead of me? You look older than my dad, to be honest. It's...well I don't know what I expected, someone a bit closer in age I guess, but most politician-types are older, so...yeah. I'm just rambling, sorry."

"That is all right. You must understand your thoughts to the fullest extent before making your final decision."

"Yeah. I mean..." She paused to look back in the colony's direction. "I don't want to leave the only place I know, and I don't know what my parents would think about me leaving for a city that I can't really tell them exists, especially one that's so far away that I'll probably never be able to come back for a visit. But at the same time there's nothing worth staying for anymore. I don't really have any friends left, I don't have a job, all my childhood stuff is old and busted...really all I'd need to keep would be stuff like clothes and photos, which seem easy enough to carry."

There was a silence.

"So..." Clara's face didn't seem happy with what she was about to ask. "If you're that much older than me...does that mean...I'll have to take care of the family by myself eventually?"

Sorean nodded sagely. "You presume that I will pass away long before you simply due to age. That is a reasonable thought process for you to have. However, I must ask: why is it a concern of yours? Do you not feel you will acclimate to our society within, say, ten years? Do you fear being an only parent? Or something of another nature?"

"Er, um..." She hadn't really thought of the "why" yet. "...well, I don't _think_ I'll have a problem with either of those two things. I guess it's more like...what am I gonna _do_? Like, will I need to get a job?"

Sorean subconsciously glanced around a bit, considering whether it was the correct time to unveil a particular piece of information. "I do not generally wish to reveal this, as it tends to attract the wrong kind of interest. But money will not be a concern of yours. There is enough wealth in my family that you will not have to seek employment to continue your life."

"...oh, okay." Clara thought for a moment. "So to recap. You came down here from the Bionis' head to look for a second wife to have a kid with because you want to show everyone that people from elsewhere aren't bad guys, and you want to use your being-rich-and-important-ness to help spread the idea around."

"That is an adequate summary."

"Y'know...I like that. You've built this big city and you don't need anything from anyone, and nobody wants to leave, but you want people to get out there and make friends anyway. Yeah."

Sorean leaned forward slightly. "So what is your opinion of my offer?"

"Uh...well...I mean..." Clara fidgeted a bit. "I'd...I think I need to talk to my parents about it. They should be back from Colony 6 in two or three hours. Can... _can_ I talk to them about it? I mean, it'd be nice to have a second opinion before I have to choose."

"I see no reason to disagree."

"Okay great thanks. I'll...I'll see you tomorrow with an answer."

"Very well."

Clara nervously walked back towards the colony.

Sorean sat down on one of the broken Mechon bodies. He was fairly confident now that he had made the correct choice by taking his search to this colony - not that asking for the seer's opinion was ever a bad idea.

* * *

The third day dawned gloomy with overcast skies. Sorean continued to wait patiently at the wreckage site as the weather turned darker, clearly preparing to rain. Normally he would consider it an ill omen, but it could also herald a change.

At about ten o'clock, Clara arrived, walking slightly faster than normal. As soon as she was within reasonable conversation distance, she spoke.

"I'm coming with you." She said it quickly but firmly, as if she wanted to stop herself from overthinking it. "My parents agree that I shouldn't keep living with my current husband, and are excited for me to have this kind of opportunity. I haven't packed yet or anything, but it'll only take an hour or so. Whenever you want to leave, I'm ready."

Sorean nodded slowly. "Very well. You have demonstrated the necessary desire to accept my offer. However, it is not yet set in stone. You must first be informed of the truths that are to be kept with the utmost secrecy. Only upon hearing and fully understanding these truths will I ask for your final decision."

Slightly worried but committed to continue, Clara nodded. "Okay, let's hear it."

Sorean slowly unclasped the fire gem pendant he was wearing and stowed it into a previously-unseen pocket. A few uneventful seconds passed. Just as Clara was about to ask when he was going to begin, she noticed something odd - some sort of giant bird had appeared from nowhere and perched on the back of his head. She blinked confusedly, but it confounded the issue further, with the huge wings now visibly lodged into his skull.

"Uhm...that's...where did..." A flash of realization struck. "Wait, are you a High Entia?!" She didn't know anything about the mythical race aside from them possessing wings on their heads.

"Indeed." Sorean nodded in approval of the logical leap. "Our existence may be naught but a rumour below the Bionis' chest, but those above know very well of our presence."

"So, that gem...you used it to hide the wings?"

"It is a Truth Cloak gem of high rank. An invaluable tool for meeting Homs without attracting unwanted attention."

Clara wasn't sure what to ask next, so she fell silent for a little while.

Sorean stepped into the silence. "If you are wondering how this new information affects my offer, know this: Nothing has changed. I am still searching for a Second Consort from outside Alcamoth with which to have a child. Recall how I explained that my people are acutely xenophobic. To elaborate, the average High Entia believes the Homs to be beneath mention at best. Our goal is to interbreed the two species to fill our society with half-bloods, and subsequently undermine this mentality until it is no more. Acceptance of Homs and half-bloods remains low at the present time, but with a not-insignificant population of them, it is constantly improving. The ultimate goal is to stop secluding ourselves in Alcamoth, to travel across the Bionis and become allies with the Homs."

"...okay." Clara slowly digested the new information. "So...so I'm going to have a kid with wings?"

"Indeed. Our two species may be similar in many respects, but we also differ in several important ways. And possessing wings is one of our strongest traits." He proceeded to head off her next thought. "Do not worry about the medical complications of such interbreeding. We have a substantial amount of experience with the potential issues that may arise. I guarantee that both you and your child will be healthy."

"Well..." She pondered for a moment. "It'll be a bit weird. But if I'm helping to get rid of your racism problem, and I get to be a mother at the same time, I'm still all for it."

"Then listen, and listen well, for this final piece of information is the one that has turned away all other Homs that I have met in the past."

Clara didn't think anything could change her mind at this point, but felt worried at the super-serious tone she was hearing. "Uh, okay."

Sorean took a deep breath. "Tell me, exactly how old do you believe I am?"

"Um...well...what'd I say yesterday? Er...maybe...uh...fifty? I mean you could dye your hair and look forty-ish..."

"Closer to fifty-one, in truth. But the important part is that such is only the age I appear to you. In actuality, I am two hundred and twenty-eight years of age."

"T...two...Two two eight?" Clara was confused for only a moment. "Oh okay, so you have an extended lifespan. I've read a bunch of books that have a race like that, they just keep living without aging much."

"That is not the full extent of the issue at hand." He reached into his pocket and extracted a photograph, handing it to her.

The picture looked to be some sort of birthday party. At a table was seated what looked to be a thirteen-year old boy with silver hair, his headwings spead out like he was trying to look both proud and impressive. A bunch of presumed presents littered the table, while several exotic-looking decorations hung on the back wall, most notably what appeared to be a banner in an alien script that she guessed to read "Happy [two-digit number]th Birthday [seven-letter name]".

Clara could feel a memory twitching. "This is...the son you already have?"

"Indeed. This photograph was taken two months ago, on his sixtieth birthday."

Clara started to nod before realizing she must have misheard. "I'm sorry, _sixteenth_ , or _sixtieth_?" She looked closer at the banner in the photo: the age's second digit did look a lot more like a slashed zero than anything else, and the first digit strongly resembled "VI", the ancient numeral form of 6 traditionally used for recording crystal and gem quality.

"He may appear to you as a teenager - and he most certainly has the mannerisms of an adolescent - but he has been of this world longer than your parents have. You see, we High Entia do not simply live longer than Homs - we age slower, by a rate of approximately four and a half times. Even from birth, it takes almost five years for one of us to match one year of Homs life." Sorean stared into Clara's eyes with great solemness. "And this leads to the most important fact that you must know: our reduced rate of aging is a dominant trait, making it an effective certainty that a half-blooded individual will have an identical aging rate as a pure-blood. You will not live to see your child reach adulthood."

The new information took a while to seep into Clara's mind. "I...not...not even a little bit? I mean...I'm only 25..."

Sorean shook his head. "The age of majority is seventy-five. Even if your child was to be born this instant, you would have to reach the age of one hundred to witness that occasion."

"That's..." Clara was crestfallen for a few moments, but something occured to her that perked her right up again, more sure of her decision than ever. "That's _perfect_. No matter how long I live, my child will still be a child. I can spend the rest of my life being an active mother, not just twenty years until they move out. And I'll still have the experience of an older kid nearing adulthood, with the son you already have. Yeah there's going to be like five times more of the bad stuff, but five times more of the good stuff too. It's...it's almost like a dream come true."

"I am pleased to hear of your positive mindset." Sorean paused for a moment to try and recall if he had forgotten anything. "I have told you all you need to know. I ask for one last time: Do you wish to come to Alcamoth, and begin a new life?"

In Clara's mind, the answer was obvious.


	2. Ascension

"Well, I'm ready."

It was almost noon. Clara had returned to the Mechon wreckage site with a suitcase in one hand, an umbrella in the other, a bag over her other shoulder, and a tear-streaked face from saying goodbye.

Sorean nodded. "Excellent. Then let us depart." He began walking to the north, which appeared to be a dead end.

Clara followed him with a bemused expression on her face. She was confused as to why he was going the wrong way; as far as she was aware, the only way to start climbing the Bionis was southwest of Colony 9.

Once the two reached the northern rock wall, Sorean pressed his hand against a large boulder. A hole appeared in the stone where he had pressed it, revealing that the boulder was covering the entrance to a small passage in the wall.

"Is this a shortcut?" asked Clara.

Sorean chuckled. "Of a sort."

The two walked through the narrow passage. After about five minutes, it opened up into a cavern large enough to fit ten or twelve Defence Force carriers, lit by several electric crystal deposits. In the centre sat a huge grey ship, about the size of a house, shaped like a large grey horizontal teardrop with two lower engines and some sort of three-quarter-halo decoration around the top.

"...whoa." Clara stood still for a moment to take in the sight. "That's...that's a big ship. Wait, so we don't have to walk all the way there? Oh that's such a relief. I was beginning to wonder, actually, since you don't have any supplies on you to support a long journey. So you flew down from the head and stayed in this secret cave?"

"Indeed. This is not the first time we High Entia have had reason to visit the lower colonies in secret." Sorean pressed his hand against the hull of the ship, which caused a ramp to descend and a door to open. The two walked inside.

The first thing that came to Clara's mind was "luxury yacht". The first things to be seen were two royal blue couches with a dark-stained wooden table between them. A second "room" beyond the couches housed a dining table with six thickly-padded chairs, presumably with kitchen implements hidden behind a divider. Visible further beyond this was a staircase, with the pilot's chair just beyond that. Most of the upper halves of the outer walls were windows.

" _Okay._ " She struggled to find a place to put down her luggage that wouldn't taint the masterfully-designed decor, finally settling for just beside the near end table next to the left couch. "I mean...I guess you did say you had a lot of wealth...but really? Well, I guess I can see why you dressed up as some random old guy in just brown. Who _wouldn't_ want to come with you if they knew you had this kind of dosh?"

"Precisely. I did not undertake this search simply to find someone who is attracted by the promise of wealth." Sorean commanded the door to close and walked towards the head of the craft. "I hope you are not afraid of heights." From there, he pressed a single button on the dashboard.

Natural light and a drizzling rainfall suddenly poured into the cave as its holographic roof was temporarily deactivated. Seconds later, a slight trembling heralded the startup of the vessel's engines, which began lifting it straight up into the sky.

Clara stared out the nearest window as she saw Colony 9 in the distance, already small and beginning to shrink rapidly. She didn't know what she was getting herself into, but it had to be better than what she was leaving behind.

Sorean moved towards the staircase. "Now, if you will excuse me, I shall change into something more befitting of my status. Our journey will take several hours; please make yourself at home." He disappeared into the second floor.

Clara was a bit too nervous to touch any of the ornate furniture, so she went over to the right wall and simply looked out across the landscape, appearing to move slowly despite what was surely great speed by now. The rain pattering the windows slowly intensified.

After a few minutes, her stomach rumbled. She had packed a lunch in her bag, so she went to retrieve it - a bag of Red Lettuce and Juicy Broccoli salad, complete with a small box of juice from the broccoli's tomato-like fruit. It was a delicious mix of spicy and sweet flavours. She figured the most proper place to eat it would be at the dining table, so she cautiously pulled out a chair and carefully sat down. It occurred to her that there was a good chance the native fruits and vegetables would be different up at the Bionis' head, so she savoured it as if it might be her last.

With her lunch complete, she mindfully ushered the containers and crumbs into her hand and began looking for a trash bin. There wasn't much familiar in the kitchen area - aside from a single sink, she could only see half a dozen cupboards of varying sizes, none of which had handles.

"Are you looking for something?" Sorean's voice came from behind.

"Yeah, a place to throw out my crumbs." Recalling that he had opened the ship's main door with the palm of his hand, she tried pressing her free hand on the cupboard under the sink, but nothing happened.

"Ah, I must apologize, the technology aboard this vessel does not allow itself to be operated by strangers. Please allow me."

"Okay thanks." Clara backed off.

Sorean reached down to tap the cupboard door with a finger. Instead of opening itself on a hinge like Clara expected, the entire thing slid out like a massive drawer, revealing an empty pure white cylindrical receptacle set into a solid block of material.

Clara scraped the crumbs out of her hand into the bin before her mind brought Sorean's new clothes to her attention: an extraordinarily complex robe, mostly various shades of blue but with a massive amount of silvery detailing. It looked like it would take weeks to make.

She felt like she had to make a comment. "Wow, uh, that's quite...quite a spiffy robe you've got there. Real...real eye-popping. So are robes the fashion in...uh, in Aulcamuth?"

"Robes are indeed popular in Alcamoth at the present time, though I would not say that they currently outshine pants for men."

Clara looked down at her own outfit: a bog-standard cream shirt, jade vest, and ochre pants. She had some skirts and dresses in her luggage, but nothing that came close to Sorean's magnificance. "Um, I think I might have to update my wardrobe once we get there. I'm going to look a bit...cheap next to you and your buddies."

"That will indeed be one of the first orders of business." Sorean looked out the window for estimation purposes. "Perhaps not today, as this weather slows our progress somewhat, but it shall then be the first thing to be done tomorrow."

It had been a while since she'd bought any new clothes. "I can't wait. What else is on the table for the first day?"

Sorean gathered his thoughts for a moment. "The most immediate need is completing the immigration process, but it will not take long at all. Aside from that the situation is fluid, with the first goal being for you to meet the rest of the family and begin becoming acclimated with our culture. Speaking of such, I have one last major piece of information for you."

"Really?" Clara had an interesting thought. "Okay so you've already told me all the bad stuff like dealing with politics, and hidden the good stuff like being rich, so I didn't agree to come with you for the wrong reasons. That means that whatever else you have to say can only be good."

"An interesting piece of intuition," Sorean nodded. "Yes, I do indeed have something to say that would compel even the worst kind of person to accept my offer, rendering them blind to all the cautions and warnings. And it is this: I am of the imperial family."

It took a moment for Clara to register the information. "Y-you're _royalty?_ "

"Correct. My sister, Entirmina, is the Empress of Alcamoth. Unfortunately, she has been found incapable of continuing the royal bloodline, and she cannot simply give me the throne for reasons that you will later learn. Thus, I am her Heirmaster, the father of the heirs. My First Consort, Yumea, is mother of Prince Kallian, who you have seen in his birthday photograph. And you shall be my Second Consort, so we may have a potential heir of mixed heritage, and so we have two children to compete with each other for the throne."

"So...so...so I'm going to be mother of a _princess_? Or prince?"

"Indeed."

"...woah...that's...uh..." It was a little bit before she could spit out a sentence. "I'm not so sure about that to be honest, since it'll probably mean there's a lot of stuff the kid won't be allowed to do, but really why would I ever say no to that? Oh man. I won't ever need to cook again, will I? Or do laundry or clean the house?"

"If there are any chores you enjoy, I see no reason to disallow you from partaking in them, but no, otherwise all your needs will be taken of. Your only task is to ensure that our child is raised properly."

Clara shook her head in disbelief. "This has been a ridiculous week. Someone I've known for five years betrays me for his own selfish interests, and now someone I've known for five days is taking me up to a secret city for exactly what I want. Crazy."

Sorean thought of something else. "On that note, will you still be using the surname of Grentels?"

She hadn't considered it previously, but the answer was obvious. "No way, I'm not keeping that dick's name. I'm back to Apiar as of this moment."

"It is good to hear you make your choice without hesitation." Sorean decided he'd had enough of conversing while standing up in the kitchen and went to sit on one of the couches. "Come, sit."

Clara hesitantly trotted over and sat on the opposing couch. It was unexpectedly soft for how smooth it looked; it would be a shame to have to stand up again.

"Now," Sorean continued, "we have a bit of time before we arrive at Alcamoth. I'm afraid there's not much in the way of entertainment aboard this vessel, but there are a few ways we can pass the time, if you do not wish to simply continue conversing. For example, you could begin the process of learning our language and alphabet."

"I have to learn a language? You don't speak Common in Alcamuth?" Clara was confused; she saw from the birthday photo that their letters were different, but from how Sorean spoke it didn't sound like Common was a second language.

"We are a bilingual society with a complex history. Long ago, we spoke only in Hightongue and wrote only in Erythscript. As Common united the Homs and Nopon, it eventually became a native tongue of the High Entia as well. However, the people refused to adapt the letterforms of the Homs, and continued to use Erythscript for both languages. In the modern age, our writing systems are much closer than the staunch purists would like to admit, yet it still would be sabotage of popularity to suggest teaching the Homs alphabet in schools."

"So...so you can speak two langauges, but you only use one alphabet to write them both?"

"Indeed. Presently, we use Common in our daily lives, with Hightongue reserved for serious matters, though of course the aforementioned purists tout it as often as possible. As a result, all Homs immigrants must learn enough of the language to conduct a conversation in it."

"Well...okay I guess." Clara shrugged. "What's it going to take, like a year? Gives me something to do while I'm waiting for the kid I guess. Might as well get started probably."

"Very well." Sorean leaned forward to open a drawer under the table and extract some flashcards, notebooks, and other learning material. "It is unfortunately uncommon to explicitly teach our language to adults, but we do have some resources available. Let us begin."

* * *

It wasn't easy to begin learning a new writing system while still on edge from the thrill of flying to the Bionis' head. Clara's attention kept drifting to the landscape passing by outside as the yacht eventually broke through the rainclouds. Sorean expected as much, and while he did attempt to keep her focused, he avoided blocking her enjoyment of the once-in-a-lifetime journey.

Once the vessel was level with the Bionis' frill, he called it. "That should be enough for now. We will be within sight of Alcamoth soon."

Clara positioned herself to better see outside. "Awesome."

The ship continued to rise beside the rocky range that surrounded Eryth Sea, the sky orange and darkening.

"There it is." Sorean pointed to a bright pinnacle that was now visible from over the wall.

Clara watched as the needle continued to grow before blossoming into a large collection of domes at the bottom, and then vanishing with no ground to speak of below it. She'd read several novels that included floating cities, so she wasn't much surprised to see that Alcamoth was one, but there were a few other things she noticed immediately.

"It's...a lot taller than I expected," she began. "And...are the parts _moving?_ "

"Indeed." Sorean also watched as the sub-domes were slowly changing places with each other. "Every twenty days, the domes that compose the bulk of the city are reorganized such that in the long term, each one feels an equal amount of sun and shade. The only district that remains stationary is the Capital District, which houses the entrance to the imperial palace."

The rest of Eryth Sea became visible, revealing the floating reefs and finally the beaches. Now with line of sight to the city, the ship began moving directly towards it. Clara simply watched the landscape go by, taking in all the unfamiliar flora and fauna that could be picked out at a distance. She didn't bother to ask what anything in particular was - there'd certainly be time for that later.

Eventually, Alcamoth dominated the windows, its bulky yet sleek shape blocking out everything around it. It didn't take long after that for all the darkening sky to disappear, replaced with the walls and ceilings of inside a hangar as the ship slowed down and stopped. Clara bent down to pick up her bag and suitcase once more, excitement building up again.

Sorean stood up and opened the door to reveal that two armed and armoured High Entia had already positioned themselves to flank the ramp, standing to attention.

"Ah, good evening to you both," he began. "Gertel, please take this young lady's belongings to the villa, and inform staff that it is now to be maintained as occupied. Sels, please have a chef sent to the villa and prepare a simple dinner for two there."

"Yes, Your Highness." The guard on the left hurried away.

After taking a moment to process the exchange, Clara carefully handed her things over to the other guard, who also left.

"...the villa?"

"Indeed," Sorean nodded. "The palace is perhaps a bit too vast for a newcomer to cope with whilst adapting to our culture. Limiting yourself to a single dwelling to begin with, while still under the palace's umbrella, should serve you well."

"So we're going there first then?"

"No. We must first meet with the immigration officer as soon as possible. Please follow me." He began walking with a purpose.

Clara followed him as he left the hangar and led her through a series of halls. Almost immediately their path crossed that of a group of three more High Entia guards walking the other way, talking about battle strategy. Trying to carefully glance back at them, she found that they had done the same, ogling at her just as she was them. She turned back forwards with much embarrassment. She tried not to stare at any more of the people they passed, but she could feel that they couldn't help but watch her. It was a lot more uncomfortable than she expected, to arrive in a city of aliens with wings and only one hair colour.

She attempted to make conversation. "Um, how long is this immigration thing going to take?"

"Under normal circumstances, a Homs must demonstrate sufficient knowledge of our city, laws, and culture before they can become a citizen. But existing citizens of sufficient trustworthiness, such as myself, are permitted to accelerate the process to a single form that should take no more than five minutes to complete, under the expectation that they will then act as a mentor for the immigrant for as long as necessary."

"...oh, okay." She couldn't really figure out anything more to say after that; the palace halls and the people within them were stealing her attention too much. Even in the context of not knowing much about the culture, it was evident that everyone in the building was either rich or worked for rich people; enough ornate decorations dotted the halls that with some practice they would no longer look identical, and the occasional window showed nothing but distant landscape at a glance.

After what felt like quite a while, the two arrived at what looked to be an office. One man waited at the front desk, while another could be seen at a desk further back. Given the time of day, it was little surprise that all the other desks were empty.

The front desk man looked up immediately upon sensing their presence. "Ah, good evening, Your Highness. I thought you were away?"

"Good evening, Mr. Kelora," Sorean replied. "I have just now returned, with this young lady in tow. I request an accelerated Homs immigration form."

"Of course, Your Highness." Mr. Kelora motioned to the other man, who was already fishing around in a filing cabinet. After about fifteen seconds the form was procured and passed to the front. "Please fill in all of the requested information, madam."

"Um, okay, mister." Clara carefully took a pen from the pot on the desk and began checking all the boxes.

_**ACCELERATED HOMS IMMIGRATION FORM** _

_Full name: Clara Apiar \- - - Age: 25 \- - - Birthday: 07 / Jul \- - - Birthplace: Colony 9_

_Gender: F \- - - Eyes: Brown \- - - Hair: Brown, curly \- - - Height: 164cm \- - - Weight: 62kg_

_Occupation: None_

_Reason for immigrating: to be second consort of Sorean Antiqua_

_Immigrant's signature:_

_Accelerant's signature:_

_Official's signature:_

_Date:_

She finished with her signature, followed by Sorean placing his signature as the accelerant and Mr. Kelora as the official, who also dated it and stamped it.

"One moment please." Mr. Kelora got up and took the completed form into a back room. After about fifty seconds he returned with a full-size envelope, which he handed to Clara. "Congratulations, Miss Apiar, you are now a citizen of Alcamoth. Here is your immigration package. Please return here during the day at your earliest convenience so our full staff may complete your identity documents."

"Uh, than-ksyou." She wanted to just say "thanks" but accidentally clunked into "thank you" midway through. She could feel herself blush in embarrassment.

"It is now time to go to the villa." Sorean motioned for her to follow as he turned to leave the office.

About fifteen seconds after starting down the hall, an adolescent boy turned a corner to come face-to-face with them. Clara immediately recognized him as Sorean's son, though his name escaped her at the moment. He certainly looked like a prince - he strode as if he owned the place and almost didn't react to nearing a collision, expecting the other party to get out of his way. But after a split second, he realized who it was and stopped in his tracks.

"...oh, hello Father." The tone of voice implied he knew that Sorean had returned but didn't expect to run into him at this very moment. He then turned to look at Clara with almost a critical eye.

Sorean nodded back. "Hello, Kallian. This is Clara, newly immigrated from Colony 9. She shall be my Second Consort."

"...I see." Kallian continued to give Clara a look-over, as if he was unsure how to interact with her, or he was busy suppressing some inappropriate thought that came to mind.

Clara wasn't really sure what to make of the reaction. She decided she should initiate. "It's nice to meet you, Prince Kallian." She extended a hand.

Kallian remained still for just long enough for Clara to consider that High Entia didn't do handshakes, but he did eventually take it with a firm grasp.

"How shall I refer to you?" he asked.

"Um...Just Clara is fine." She didn't know anything else that made sense.

Sorean stepped in. "Once the marriage is complete, you will refer to her as either Mother or the Second Consort. But until then, her choice of address will do fine."

"...Very well. I shall see you tomorrow." Kallian stared for one last moment before turning around and walking back the other direction, giving off the impression that he was scurrying back to his room to have a good long think about things.

Clara watched him retreat. "...He didn't seem too impressed."

Sorean frowned a bit. "He is of two minds. As an authority-defying adolescent, he is interested in Homs and their culture solely to spite his mother's distaste for such things. But he now knows with no doubt that his time as an only child is limited, and he is loathe to lose such privilege." He paused for a moment. "He will respect you, of that I am certain; he understands the importance of these matters. But I would not be surprised if he begins this relationship by marginalizing your position in his life, ignoring your presence whenever it is convenient. Whether you should push back or step away, I do not know. In the end, the most important relationship is that between him and your future child."

"Hmmm." She tilted her head as she thought. "I'd like to know more about him. The things he likes, what he does for fun, that kind of stuff."

"That is a reasonable desire, but I do not believe now is the time."

"Oh, okay."

It felt somewhat of a shorter walk through the halls of sameness before the path became what appeared to be a dead end. Sitting in the dead end was a raised disc on the floor and another disc floating a decent ways above it, with a faint green beam connecting the two.

"This is a transporter." Sorean extended his arm towards the apparatus. "We use them to cross vast distances in an instant, allowing us to traverse the hovering reefs of Eryth Sea and connect distant segments of the city for convenient passage. This transporter will lead us to the entrance of the villa. All you must do is stand within it and wish to pass through it."

Clara was working to comprehend all this information. "Uh, so...so how do I do that?"

"Everyone is different in their preferred method. I recommend you simply try different thoughts until you succeed."

"Well...okay." She cautiously stepped up onto the pad, to the side of the central beam. _Alright, so...let's do it. Put me through._

A blur of light green ether particles flashed across her vision, obscuring her view. It only lasted for a second before clearing, revealing that she was now in a completely different hallway. It was a bit unnerving.

She presumed she had to step off the pad so Sorean could follow, but he appeared alongside without her needing to.

"I must say you're a natural," he said with a half-smile. "Some Homs have quite the difficulty with activating transporters, and it is a difficult thing to teach. Tell me, how is your ether affinity?"

"Uhm...I'm not really sure. I mean, I think I'm pretty normal? I never had any medical problems with ether or anything. Oh, I do know an ether art, Light Heal. It's nice for small bumps and bruises."

"That is sufficient for the moment."

Sorean continued to lead Clara forward. It didn't take long for the walls and ceiling to disappear, opening the path to outside.

The first thing that could be seen was a massive seashell-like structure, several storeys high and complex in design, surrounded by foilage and an incomplete glassy dome. The skybridge that crossed the expanse between the building and the palace appeared open to the sky, and also allowed a vast panorama of the rest of the city below.

Clara was not afraid of heights, but she still felt a small pang of fear as she looked down past the bridge's complete lack of railings. The lights shining in the dark domes below made them look like sparkling fishbowls.

Sorean did not press her to continue walking. "You need not fear falling from any structure in Alcamoth. Only if your mind expresses intent and desire to fall can you pass through the invisible safety fields that surround every ledge." He demonstrated by leaning himself against the invisible wall of force, nothing but a soft crackle of white energy keeping him from tumbling over the edge.

"I'll...uh, take your word for it." Finished with observing the skyline, she continued walking towards the spire that was certainly the villa. It had to be at least seven storeys tall - what could she possibly use all that space for? On the other hand, it seemed oddly narrow. Maybe there was only one or two rooms per floor.

As she stepped into the dome, she looked across the greenery placed in front of the villa's entrance. The trees looked like they came from the lower regions of the Bionis as opposed to Eryth Sea, but she'd never seen these species of flowers before - blue, white, and yellow petals planted in abstract circular patterns.

"These flowers are beautiful. What are they?" She bent down to take a closer look, but something had a very strong smell that was a bit unpleasant to take in.

Sorean paused to recall. "The white flowers are Ether Roses, native to the marshes. The blue are Evening Hibiscuses, a popular breed. Finally, the yellow flowers are Mystic Dahlias, the official flower of the imperial family."

Clara ran her fingers over one of the dahlias, its ball-like petal formation just the right size to fit into her hand. "You know, I've always liked gardening. Never got much chance to do anything significant though. Could I do something with this plot?"

"These gardens are yours to do with what you please." Sorean glanced around. "However, they may be too large for a single person's efforts. If your desire is to set up a specific breed or pattern, you may be better suited with offering your plans to the imperial gardeners."

A thoughtful nod. "I guess that makes sense." She continued to circle the gardens, determining that it was the Ether Roses giving off the strong scent. She decided that they would be the first to go, replacing them with something else white that didn't smell as powerful. Or maybe it would be better to start the whole thing from scratch.

Sorean let her wander for a few minutes before edging back into her attention. "Perhaps you would be better served waiting for daylight to form any opinions of the gardens."

"Yeah I guess, it is getting pretty dark." She suddenly realized that she was rather hungry. "So, uh, where's this dinner you said was being made?"

"It is being prepared in the villa's kitchen. Let us not keep it waiting for too long."

Clara nodded and turned to walk through the villa's front entrance. But while she didn't know what to expect, it wasn't an open entryway leading to nothing but a completely empty room, and there didn't seem to be any way to progress to the upper floors. The only feature inside was a stone pillar in the centre of a small pool of water.

"...uh...where's...where's anything?" She looked around in confusion. The back of her mind suggested that it was a trap, a prison for gullible Homs.

Sorean walked towards what appeared to be three tapestries hung on the back wall. As he approached the middle one, it faded away to reveal another transporter behind it.

"...oh." Clara scratched her head. "Man, everything around here is so...well, a bit overdone. I mean, you could just have a door and some stairs, but instead it's a transporter behind a fake wall inside a...fake foyer."

Sorean nodded contemplatively. "Complexity is a natural consequence of high social status. For better or for worse, possessing much wealth unwaveringly leads to equally-impressive methods of displaying such wealth."

"Yeah I guess." She realized that she'd been repeating herself quite a bit over the past few hours. It made sense somewhat; she was regurgitating the same phrases over and over again to ground her mind from being too shellshocked with everything else it was being exposed to.

The newly-exposed transporter had a blue colour as opposed to the greenish one that led up to the villa. Clara carefully walked into it and, after a moment, passed through it.

The instant her eyes started showing her what was inside, she froze solid.

The first things that jumped to attention were the crimson carpets, trimmed in gold tassels and placed satisfyingly evenly around the circular room. A free-standing fireplace sat in the centre, essentially a circular pit filled with flames of no obvbious source. Four arced benches surrounded the pit, each one made of a different wood and padded with a slightly different shade of red. A pair of full-length mirrors could be seen to the right, presumably as part of the doors to a coat closet, whereas on the left was the foot of a wide staircase that spiralled upwards around the outer wall, its carpeted steps and glossy banister both pure white. The floor was tiled with ochre six-pointed stars. No fewer than eight tables dotted the room, each one topped with a selection of statuettes and other trinkets, mostly gold-coloured.

Clara couldn't begin to guess how expensive this single room could be. Not even the most eccentric nutters of Colony 9 would even bother with this kind of decor, given that it would assuredly make them a prime target for the next Mechon attack. She started to wander around in a bit of a stupor, entranced by the spectacle yet paranoid of touching anything. Everything about the foyer seemed far too above her.

Sorean remained motionless on the transporter pad, allowing Clara to explore at her own pace.

After several minutes of just staring, she finally ambled up the stairs to the second floor, revealing a sitting room of equal opulence. Over a dozen uniquely ornate chairs and couches dotted the room alongside several tables, each a pleasing sky blue with highly specular bronze trimming. Three large and fully-stocked bookshelves bordered the room, made of perfectly smooth wood stained an almost clay-like colour. The thick white carpet gave the impression of sitting amongst the clouds.

In complete and utter disbelief, Clara fell forward onto the carpet, which turned out to be so thick and soft that it could be slept on. She was done. The kitchen and bedroom could be an empty husk for all she cared; it would still be the most lavish and luxurious building that any Homs had ever set foot in.

She could hear Sorean ascending the stairs up to the floor above. Reluctantly pushing herself back up to her feet, she followed.

The third floor was the kitchen and dining area, with one side filled with cabinets while the other housed a dining table to seat eight. The walls and cabinets were painted a faint yellow, while the table, chairs, and counters were an earthy orange, and both were accentuated with piercing black details. An invitingly tasty smell filled the air, and it didn't take long to find the source: a pair of dinner plates on the counter, stocked with what looked to be a cut of meat, a pile of potatoes, and some sort of long beans. Standing behind the counter, pouring gravy onto the potatoes, was a chef. He was wearing a pleasing coffee-coloured apron and hairnet, with two similar nets wrapped around his wings.

"Ah, Your Highness." The chef nodded in Sorean's direction. "Your timing is perfect; dinner shall be served in moments."

Sorean nodded back. "Thank you, Argen. Let us sit, Clara."

Still having trouble wrapping her head around the immense affluence of the villa, and knowing that there was still probably about five more floors to see, Clara clumsily pulled out a chair from the round dining table and sat down. She stared at the elaborate cutlery already laid out, silver in colour but with a tinge of orange, probably in total worth more than her entire suitcase.

Two minutes later, the chef placed the completed plates on the table, as well as two tall glasses of milk. "Dinner is served, Your Highness and guest." He bowed and stepped back behind the counter to begin cleaning up, expecting no thanks.

Clara had forgotten how hungry she was ever since she stepped into the villa's first floor. While it took a moment to get over her reluctance to touch the pristine utensils, once she began eating she couldn't stop. Everything tasted both surprisingly familiar and distinctly new.

Sorean, also quite enjoying his first prepared meal in a few days, waited until the plates were mostly cleaned before he initiated more conversation. "How do you like your villa so far?"

"Oh man." Clara hastily swallowed and started spilling words everywhere. "It's...I mean...uh...I don't even know. It's like, why? I don't...okay." She rubbed her eyes for a moment. "It's absolutely crazy. I'm used to a world where the average guy has a house with one room and one bedroom. Maybe two if he has a family. But even then those houses are...like, smaller than the first two floors here. What am I gonna need all this space for? Won't most of it just sit unused if only one person lives here?"

"Do not underestimate the ability to expand into a larger space. I am confident you will grow into your new environs, once you become accustomed to them."

"...if you say so." She was about to take on another mouthful when something odd came to mind. "Okay so hang on. You said that this whole two-consorts thing was supposed to be like two half-sisters raising stepchildren together, or something. But how's that going to be the case if I'm in this villa and the other consort...uh, isn't?"

"Ah, your perceptiveness is impressive." Sorean paused for a moment to compose his answer. "This villa exists for the purpose of allowing the Second Consort to back away from the pressures of imperial life should they so choose, especially in the early days before they are comfortable with their life in Alcamoth. You may move into the palace proper when you are ready, or you may remain with a more peripheral life, and you may continue to move back and forth as you see fit. Of course, once you become a mother, you would do well to choose a residence and hold there for some time, for the sake of the child."

"So is there a timeline for that? I mean obviously it'll be a little while, since I have to learn the language and stuff first."

"There is indeed a loose series of events set out, contingent on how quickly you take to your studies. First, you must learn Erythscript and Hightongue, and in doing so become accustomed to life in Alcamoth in general. Once you are sufficiently acclimatized to our city and culture, you must then undergo additional tutelage on imperial matters, so you are prepared to marry into the royal family. There may be some overlap, but all told, these two goals are expected to take a year and a half each. Therefore, I expect our child to be born three or four years from now."

"...huh, that's a bit of a while, isn't it." Clara was a little downtrodden at having the years spelled out - she'd be 28 or 29 by that time - but she couldn't say she was all that surprised. "Well, what'd you say a bit ago? That Mr. Antiqua wasn't big on taking back his word? And you've already committed hard on telling Kallian, so I don't think you'll be cheesing out like that last guy did. Alright, I think I can wait."

"I am glad to hear it."

The rest of the dinner was finished in silence. Once Clara was done, Chef Argen quickly took the empty dishes away.

"Uh, thank you, um...sir." She couldn't remember his name. "It was delicious. The...er...I'd appreciate knowing what it was."

The chef seemed a bit taken aback, but replied quickly. "Of course. Today's dinner was Ekidno flank alongside Airy Potatoes and Longhorn Beans."

Clara didn't recognize any of the given foods by name, but that was of no importance. "I see. Well, put that on the list of stuff I like. Good start."

"It shall be done," Sorean said. "You will always have the option of making your own meals, but should you not wish to on any given day, you may summon a chef at any time." He indicated a blue button on the side of one of the cabinents.

Clara nodded. "I'll probably end up feeding myself for a bit just because I'm used to it, but awesome."

"Now, let us finish your tour." Sorean stood up and directed her back towards the stairs.

"Okay." Satisfyingly full, she walked up to the next floor.

The fourth floor was filled with a similar assortment of tables and seating as the second floor, though in shades of green and silver that make it look vaguely like an artificial forest. It also had a distinctly different feel owing to the accoutrements within: instead of decorations and trinkets, it housed a radio and a pair of large screens. The stairs ended here, with three transporters placed across the opposite wall.

"So this is the living room?" guessed Clara, feeling a bit more at ease. "What are these screens, eye-radios? I've read sci-fi novels with that kind of technology, but we haven't been able to figure it out for real yet."

Sorean chuckled. "Indeed, one of these monitors is connected to the visual spectrum of mass media, with access to every one of Alcamoth's five hundred channels. While television, as it is known, will certainly be a valuable resource in your learning of our culture, I suggest you not become too enamoured with the concept."

"Cool. So what about the other one?" She approached the smaller screen to see it had a keyboard placed in front of it. "Some sort of advanced typewriter?"

"Of a sort. It is a computer, a device that trivializes many tedious functions, such as writing letters or performing calculations."

"Interesting." Clara wandered around for another minute or two before coming to a stop in front of the three transporters. "Okay so let me guess: These lead to the bedrooms?"

"Correct. The central transporter leads to the master bedroom and master bathroom, while the right one goes to the child's bedroom and bathroom, and the one on the left is access to the balcony level. You must mentally select which destination you intend to access in order to utilize a transporter of multiple destinations." Sorean nodded in her direction. "And this is where I leave you for today, so you may explore the final few rooms by yourself, and prepare for the events of tomorrow."

"...oh." It made a degree of sense; bedrooms and such were theoretically more private than kitchens and sitting rooms. "Well, okay then. When does tomorrow start?"

"I suggest you be ready for nine o'clock. I will come by to collect you. I do not recommend you enter the palace on your own for the time being, as you are far from being recognized by the guards as a trustworthy invidividual."

"Sounds good. I'll see you tomorrow then."

"Indeed. May you have a fulfilling rest, Clara." Sorean smiled as he turned to walk back down the stairs.

Clara was now left alone in her new house, assuming that the chef had left once he was done cleaning up. A childish compulsion to simply run around through the empty rooms rose up, but she quashed it with the desire to see the remaining rooms; there would be time to enjoy herself later. After taking a moment to remember where they went, she picked the transporter on the left first.

The transporter's other end led to a small empty room with a hole in the wall that led out to the balcony at the top of the villa. She stepped outside to see that it faced the palace and was about eight or nine floors up.

_It's nice to have a balcony, but having it face the palace is a bit of a waste. You can't really see any landscape from it._

A bit disappointed, she returned to the three transporters and moved over to the one on the right. As she stepped onto the pad, an odd thought was planted into her mind that pressured her to decide whether she wanted to transport to the bedroom or bathroom; it was a little uncomfortable to control her mind with the artificial thought dominating it, but after a moment she chose to see the bedroom first.

The child's bedroom was completely empty, with nothing but pleasing bluish-lavender tones across its carpet and walls that would suit either gender. Clara couldn't say she was too surprised, given that its occupant had yet to exist, and found a bit of excitement in potentially being allowed to decorate it herself. Transporting directly to the bathroom, she found slightly less bareness, though this was mostly because it had all the necessary equipment installed; the room itself was a similarly blank slate, with not even anything more than an off-white across all its surfaces.

She then moved to the transporter that took her to the master bathroom. It was much more ornately decorated; everything was coloured an opulent pearl, while the trims were amethyst and very determined to not hold a straight edge, winding curves in every direction that almost made it seem like nothing was flat. Much of the wall behind the sink was pure mirror, the rest of the wall filled with cabinets and counter space. The circular claw-footed bathtub was featurelessly iridescent, almost like a hollow pearl, with the brass showerheads and curtain rods held up with nothing but invisible force. Even the toilet looked exceedingly expensive and overdone, with a cushioned velvet seat, an almost shag carpet-like lid covering, and a tank suspended up near the ceiling.

Stunned once more by what she had been plopped into, Clara jitteringly began opening cabinents and investigating the contents. The amount of just plain _stuff_ was mind-boggling - sure, she expcted to see a bunch of makeup, shampoo, perfume, and so on, but not in dozens of brands and scores of colours. Even the toothpaste came in three or four flavours. She was never much of a primpy person, preferring to be practical most of the time, but she could tell she'd be spending quite a bit of time experimenting with what was surely an infinite supply of cosmetics. After all, if she was to be interacting with rich people from now on, she'd have to learn to fit in.

After spending five minutes working up the courage to desecrate the toilet, and another five minutes basking in the oddly dignified sensation that followed, she finally moved on to the master bedroom. It wasn't really all that late, but she suddenly felt very tired from the day of travelling and sightseeing, and expected that once she had a look around she'd just go right to sleep. It was fitting to be the last unexplored room.

It felt like being suspended in a cloudless sky. Everything was some shade or other of blue; the walls faded from the faint blue of horizon at the bottom to the deep blue of zenith at the top, the bedspread was a watery aqua, and the desk, dresser, wardrobe doors, chairs, and end tables were all a blue-tinged silver. The only thing out of place was her luggage, carefully placed beside the desk chair. Oddly enough, the room didn't give off the same feeling of extreme opulence as the other furnished rooms - maybe it was a little bit toned down on purpose, or her mind was just becoming desensitized to it.

Once she was done looking around, Clara got ready to go to bed, trading the clothes she was wearing with the plaid pajamas in her suitcase. She still took great care to not touch anything in the room, feeling terrible about turning off the lights, pushing aside the bedcurtains, and disturbing the covers. It felt like she was squatting in someone else's luxury hotel room more than anything.

She still had trouble believing that, as far as she was concerned, she had basically won the biggest lottery in history.


	3. Bruting

Clara didn't sleep very well, waking up three times in the night to stare at the dark ceiling for a while. She wasn't really surprised about it; she remembered hearing somewhere that people often have trouble sleeping in an unfamiliar environment. What she _was_ surprised about is that she never once considered that the entire process of meeting Sorean and moving to Alcamoth was all just a dream.

Once she woke up a fourth time, the sky outside was bright, visible through a single arched window. A quick look at her watch told her it was five to eight - she had about an hour to get ready for her first full day in the lap of luxury.

Slightly more comfortable with her surroundings now that she woke up in them, Clara moved into the bathroom and started getting ready for a shower. Not wanting to waste too much time with the selection of shampoo and so on, she picked whatever was easiest to get out of the cabinets and stepped into the tub. It didn't take long to confirm that everything was just better than down in Colony 9 - the water pressure was perfectly consistent, it took no time at all to find the perfect temperature, and there was no danger of slipping despite the tub's smooth appearance. It was difficult to will herself back out from inside the curtain, followed by using a towel that still felt dry afterwards.

With step one complete, she returned to the bedroom and started fishing through her clothes. She knew that she was about to get an entirely new wardrobe, so she figured she might as well go with her favourite and best-looking outfit - a green dress with an aqua waistband and blue socks. It was pretty firm in her mind that, if she had a choice, she would be asking for all her new clothes to be various shades of green, her preferred colour. She then started heading down to the kitchen on the third floor. It occurred to her that it was a little silly to have half the villa connected by transporters but the other half restricted to stairs - there must be some limitation to how many transporters can be put too close together or something.

The empty kitchen was both alluring and daunting. Clara opened every cabinet door one by one to find something suitable for breakfast. Most of the stuff in the cupboards was unfamiliar to her, either in the form of strange-looking plants or illegible packaging. After a bit, she found something she knew: three Sour Gooseberries. It wasn't long after that before she found a drink - the cupboard after that was actually a refrigerator, identical to all the other cupboards except for the temperature inside, and among other things housed some plastic bottles that according to the picture on the label were grape juice. Further searching led to where the glasses were kept, and breakfast could finally be enjoyed.

Once her meal was finished, Clara remembered something and went back to the bedroom, picking up the immigration package envelope she had left on the desk.

_I should probably at least open this before anything else happens today._

She slid her finger into the flap and tore it open, followed by taking everything out and spreading it across the desk. The first paper that caught her eye looked to be her incomplete identity document, listing the attributes she had filled out on the form in Common text on the right side and presumably also in Erythscript on the left side, with a large empty space in a top corner intended for a photograph. The next paper looked to be a sort of cheat sheet for converting between the two writing systems, which would be most immediately useful if she wanted to read any of the labels on the food in the kitchen. Another conversion chart listed several lengths of time and their equivalents between Homs and High Entia age rates - for example, a 25-year old Homs is equivalent to a 112.5-year old High Entia, while a 25-year old High Entia is like a 5.56-year old Homs.

_This chart's going to be super-useful if I can't figure out the rate in my head._

The remaining papers seemed to be all legal junk, and were therefore probably not worth bothering with at the moment.

Clara returned everything to the envelope and took it back downstairs with her. She much preferred the airy look of the second floor to the fiercer first floor, so she decided to wait for Sorean there, who would be arriving in a few minutes.

Just after a distant clock tower chimed, what was presumably a doorbell rang, sounding like a church bell playing two different ascending arpeggios.

_Uh-oh. I didn't know there was a doorbell. Why isn't he coming in on his own? Isn't it just a transporter? Do I have to go get him? If he can't get in then how will I know how to?_

Flustered, Clara staggered down to the first floor and walked up to the transporter. Standing on the transporter was Sorean - but he was tinged blue and translucent and didn't react to her presence, waiting patiently with his hands clasped.

She waved her hand in front of Sorean's face to no result. "Uh, hello?"

Sorean reacted to her voice, but still seemed to be effectively blind. "Good morning, Clara. Would you be so kind as to allow my passage?"

Now quite confused, Clara looked around as if expecting a doorknob somewhere. "Er, huh? How...but you're already in here kind of? What?"

"Oh." A moment of realization struck; he put a hand on his chest while shaking his head. "I must apologize; I neglected to inform you of how your front door transporter functions. What you see is merely a projection of whoever is waiting to be allowed entry. A holographic peephole, in essence. You must simply declare that you wish to allow entry."

"...okay." She thought she understood. "So, you can come in."

The blue projection vanished, shortly replaced by the actual Sorean appearing on the transporter pad.

Clara shook her head a bit. "There's that rich-people-overcomplication again."

Sorean chuckled. "A deserved mindset to have. However, I suggest that this case provides additional security beyond a simple door: very few can enter your home without your direct permission. I am one of those few, of course, but I prefer to remain polite about it."

"Very few? Who else?"

"All members of the royal family, in addition to pre-approved guards and service staff, such as chefs and cleaners."

Clara nodded slightly. "Makes sense. Why would a guard need in here though?"

"All imperial property is patrolled on a regular basis. They are not mandated to enter the villa proper, and generally will not unless something prompts it, but you will see them in the gardens daily."

"That kinda sucks but I can deal. Shouldn't be much different than the Defence Force guys patrolling around in Colony 9."

Sorean decided it was a good time to change the subject. "So, what do you recall needs to be done today?"

Clara held up the envelope in her hand. "I need to go get my papers finished, I need to go get new clothes, and...and I should probably meet the rest of the family."

"Indeed. I suggest you acquire your wardrobe first, so your identity photographs do not immediately become outdated. In addition, there are a few other minor, less-involved tasks to add to today's list. Most importantly, you must meet with the captain of the guard to make his acquaintance and begin the process of making yourself known to the guards at large. But for know, let us focus on one thing at a time."

"Alright. I'm assuming I won't need money, but is there anything else I'll need to bring to get clothes?"

"Nothing but your body and your preferences."

"Great. Let's get going then."

Clara placed the immigration envelope on a nearby table and followed Sorean outside. The gardens looked even more spectacular by day and didn't seem to smell as bad, with the Ether Roses in retreat from the direct sunlight, but she didn't have time to enjoy it for the moment.

The palace halls felt about the same as the previous evening: a jumbled mess of corridors full of strange people. As she had yet to go down the same hall twice (she thought), she couldn't yet form any sort of mental map; all she could do was recognize what compass direction the windows were pointing. She wondered if a map was available, but figured otherwise - anyone in the palace would either have been there long enough to not need one, or be escorted by someone who was.

After a while, the pair arrived at what was clearly a tailors' workplace. The walls were lined with an astounding collection of fabrics, of every colour and pattern imaginable, both in raw rolls and completed outfits clearly suitable for the upper class. The floorspace was dotted with half a dozen complex devices that were probably advanced sewing machines, in addition to further racks of fabric and clothes. A satisfyingly crisp smell filled the air.

Clara felt almost like a kid in a candy store, strongly compelled to just dash about and try on the most expensive-looking stuff with no care for consequences. It took a fair bit of self-control to keep herself stationed behind Sorean as he rang a bell for assistance.

After about twenty seconds, a middle-aged woman appeared from around a corner in the back of the room. She was wearing a burnt orange dress, had her hair tied back in a rather large bun, and much to Clara's surprise, had small wings that only reached down to her shoulders.

"Good morning, Your Highness," she said. "What brings you here today?"

"Good morning, Ms. Len." Sorean stepped aside to bring attention to Clara. "This young lady requries a new wardrobe befitting of a consort."

Clara could see the tailor's eyes light up, noticing for the first time that High Entia seemed to have some sort of dark ring imprinted into their irises.

"We'll begin straight away, Your Highness."

"Excellent. I cannot wait to see the results." Sorean turned to Clara. "I have several other things to do for you which do not require your presence. I shall return later."

"Uh, okay. Bye then." She watched him disappear around the corner into the halls.

Ms. Len had already dashed away, returning a few seconds later with five other tailors: three women and two men, all with normal-sized wings.

"Prepare for the traditional cuts first, we'll do the simpler day-to-day things later." She turned to Clara as the sewing machines started up, her face beaming. "Oh I've always wanted to meet another Homs. What's your name?"

"I'm Clara."

"Nice to meet you, Clara. You can call me Derri. I'll be your tailor for as long as you want. Come over here so we can measure you." She directed Clara to a clear area with a tape measure in hand.

Clara followed, a bit uncomfortable with the enthusiasm. "Um, excuse me, but what did you mean by "another" Homs just then?"

"Well, my father wouldn't really count, would he?" Derri moved Clara into position by the shoulders and started by measuring her height.

"Your dad is a Homs? So...OH, okay, that explains the small wings. I was wondering actually, but I thought it would be rude to just ask."

"Ah, so I'm the first half-blood you've seen in Alcamoth? Well, the first you recognized, anyway. We do tend to have small wings, but if the genetics dice roll just right, we can look almost identical to a pure-blood. Like Terl here." She pointed to the most distant of the seamsters, who indeed looked to have nothing unusual about him.

"Interesting." _So is my child going to have big or small wings? I don't want a kid flying around the house, but it'd be best if they fit in with everyone else._

Derri continued measuring, collecting numbers for Clara's arms, legs, bust, hips, neck, and more. "I can't wait to get started on your wardrobe. Prince Kallian hasn't had a growth spurt in a while; it's been some time since we've had to do major work. Do you have any colours or patterns that you'd like us to focus on?"

 _Thanks for the easy go._ "How about green? I like the bluer greens."

"Excellent. The rest of the royal family is quite blue, so you'll fit in well while still being distinct. You'll still have some other colours, of course, but we'll make sure that green is the focus."

With the measuring complete, Derri took her page of numbers and fed it into each sewing machine in turn, causing the data to show up on a small screen on the front for the seamster to read. "Now just sit tight for a moment, Clara, and I'll make you something to wear for today. We'll deliver the rest to the villa as soon as it's ready."

Clara was about to ask how it was known that she was living in the villa, but upon considering it she didn't need to - Sorean had introduced her as "a consort", she was obviously Homs, and it was probably known through the palace that there was a villa designated for a Homs consort. "That's great. How much is there going to be?"

Derri had settled into the remaining sewing machine and had it running at full speed. "We'll start you with 5 formal outfits and 30 day-to-day ones, that should cover you for now."

The number was a plesant surprise, with Clara used to having seven or maybe eight outfits at a time, with only one for special occasions. "Awesome."

"You can go ahead and have a look around, we'll be a few minutes. Tell us if you see anything you like, and we'll make it in your size."

"Okay." Clara started moving around the room, investigating what hung on the racks. Even the simplest garments had some sort of pattern or texture to them, and the fabrics simultaneously felt light and airy while also sturdy and warm. She also noticed that all of the female tops had breast support built in, suggesting that she wouldn't be using bras anymore. She collected half a dozen things that caught her eye and placed them on an empty rack close to where she was measured.

After what didn't feel like very long, Derri's machine stopped whirring and she stood up with a pile of fabric in her arms. "Here you go, your first outfit!"

Clara expected it to take about twice the time. "Wow, really? That was fast!" She stepped forward to take the pile.

Derri pointed to a back corner. "The changeroom is over there. You won't be needing any underwear, that's not something we use around here. Just leave what you're wearing now in the room, and we'll take care of it."

"Okay then." Clara scampered towards the indicated corner to find a door with no handle. She poked a few different places trying to find a way in, quickly landing on a coloured square to the side that caused the door to fade away to nothing.

The changeroom was fairly large for one person; presumably it was designed to accomodate royals who demanded aides to dress them. A mirror was on the left wall while several pegs stuck out of the right wall. A chair and a stool were against the back wall.

Clara excitedly closed the door and got to work. It was only moments before she had donned her new getup: a greenish-aqua knee-length dress with elbow-length sleeves, trimmed with navy and covered with a maze of cyan stitching in swirly patterns, accompanied by cyan leggings and socks. It wasn't quite as ornate as Sorean's or Kallian's clothing, but she was fine with that.

An unpleasant realization struck. _Crap, I don't have matching shoes for this. Did she measure my feet? I don't remember._ She opened the changeroom door and poked her head out, confirming that the floor looked safely free from pins (did they even use pins here?) before walking out towards where Derri was working.

"Uh, Derri, do you have any shoes?"

Derri's hands immediately flew up in the air. "I _knew_ we forgot something! Don't worry, I'll get you some, just sit tight." She paused her work and hurried into the back room.

About two minutes later, she reappeared holding a pair of grass-coloured shoes with heels four centimetres tall. "The cobblers' is next door, I've got them making a dozen pairs for you."

"Wow, thanks." Clara bent down to put on the shoes. She'd never worn high heels before; it felt like she was perched on a ramp composed of tripping hazards. _At least they're kinda short, so I can get used to it. I'm probably going to be given something as tall as a pencil sometime._

As if on cue, Sorean appeared at the door. He took a moment to look over the situation. "Very nice. The craftsmanship on display almost equals the brilliance of the model."

Derri's wings noticably fluttered. "I'm glad you approve, Your Highness. This outfit is complete; the rest should be done before supper."

Sorean looked over the other five seamsters to see that five other garments were almost finished. "Excellent. Am I correct in thinking that Clara's presence is not required for you to continue?"

"Indeed you are. We can finish the rest without her."

"Splendid." He motioned to Clara. "I must say, Clara, that your new clothing has outpaced your current hairstyle. I strongly suggest we rectify that."

"Makes sense, okay." She'd also noticed in the mirror that the curly brown mop on her head stood out a bit too much from her newly-crisp look. She already had what she wanted in mind - turn the large block of frizz into a smaller number of large thick spirals, a style that she loved in the past but wasn't worth the hassle of the upkeep at the time.

Sorean nodded. "Then let's depart." He turned and left without further word.

"Uh-" Clara hurriedly followed while she turned back to wave at Derri. "Bye then!"

Derri waved back wordlessly as she continued to sew.

Clara's heels may have only been four centimetres tall, but she felt a lot taller as she inexperiencedly stumbled through the palace halls. Luckily, this walk was only about a minute long.

The new room was clearly a barbershop, though it was surprisingly small. Two counters along the side walls were each equipped with a mirror, a chair, a sink, and mounds of bottles. An elderly man with a very sharp and short hairline was cleaning the left mirror, wearing pure white robes.

"Ah, welcome, Your Highness." He made a small bow and straightened up. "What brings you here today?"

"Well met, Mr. Iridu." Sorean motioned towards Clara. "You have a new customer."

Mr. Iridu scratched his chin with interest. "I see. Very well." He stepped to the chair on the right and spun it to face outward. "Right here, if you please."

"Okay." Clara placed herself into the chair.

"I shall return later." Sorean nodded and left.

Clara raised her hand and got off a two-fingered wave before he was gone. _He must be pretty busy to be so impersonal today._

Mr. Iridu clapped his hands together with a restrained excitement. "So! What are you looking to have done, madam?"

"Uh, I'd like my curls to be...how do you say...more distinct. Less of them, but bigger. Grouped up and blockier."

"Ah yes, ringlets." The barber reached down into a drawer and extracted a booklet of promotional images, turning to a page featuring a young woman with the desired spirals of hair tumbling down past her shoulders.

"Yeah, that," Clara nodded. The image looked funny to her - seeing a High Entia with curly hair just didn't look right in her mind, somehow. Maybe it was because everyone she'd seen so far had straight hair.

"Then let's begin."

Mr. Iridu fished through the drawers to find some sort of rod, presumably a curling iron. He then began clustering Clara's hair into sections and wrapping each one around the rod in turn, harmonizing their curls together into big spiral chunks. It held together much better than whenever Clara had tried it herself; either her technique was faulty, or the rod itself was providing more than just heat.

Minor hair-related conversation was had during the process. Clara asked why the barbershop was so small, which led to learning that High Entia hair growth slows down significantly once it reaches ear length, meaning haircuts were more of a once-a-decade event than a regular occurance. Indeed, some women considered it fashionable to never have their hair cut, but to simply gather it up into ever more elaborate designs. It was not unheard of for High Entia to dye their hair, with blue and purple being the most common colours, but doing so was generally seen as eccentric at best. Finally, children were born blond, with their hair turning silver between the ages of eight and ten.

It took about an hour to round the entire hairstyle together, and the results were impressive. Instead of a foamy mess of tangled hair, she now had about sixteen distinct clumps of perfect spirals, with two positioned as earlocks, and a perfectly straight part in the middle. Even more than her new clothes, it made her feel an order of magnitude richer.

"I love it." She bounced the clumps around, enjoying the springy feeling. "How long will it stay like this?"

"Up to a month, should you use the correct products." Mr. Iridu pointed out some specific bottles of shampoo and conditioner from a shelf. Clara couldn't read the labels, but she did recognize their designs and colours.

"So I should be coming in here about every four weeks to keep it in?"

"That is correct."

Like magic, Sorean entered the room as if he knew in advance exactly when to arrive. "Ah, a most excellent choice of hairstyle, to accentuate your most unique features. You have top-notch taste, Clara."

"...um, thanks." She didn't think it was anything too special. Maybe curly hair was indeed rare and unusual for High Entia.

Sorean nodded at Mr. Iridu and motioned for Clara to join him. "Our next destination is the jeweler's. As radiant as you appear, I recommend donning at least one accessory to complete your look."

"Sounds good." Clara was pretty neutral towards precious stones and the like; the only shiny rock she ever had was in the wedding ring she left behind in Colony 9, and while she occasionally showed interest in collecting more, she wasn't interested enough to brave the price tag. But here, where it looked so far like everything was free, she could probably get something pretty impressive.

It was another short walk to the next destination, as if this wing of the palace was a miniature mall. The room was decorated with many panes of glass, behind which were dozens of sparkling gems and jewels of various shapes and designs.

The jeweler behind the counter had a refined mustache, a navy cloak, and a selective disposition. "Hello, Your Highness. What brings you here today?"

"Hello, Mr. Quince. I am here for the final piece of this young lady's ensemble."

"Ah, very well." Mr. Quince cast a critical eye over Clara. "I would recommend a pendant, Your Highness. A loose chain with a vibrant core. Have her command attention with a clear focal point, a splash of the same distinct colour as her curls." He reached down to pick up and hold out a large triangular earth gem on a silver chain.

Sorean placed a hand on his chin and thought for a moment. Clara got the impression he didn't agree with the recommendation. She also wondered if she should interject; a necklace with five round water gems had caught her eye.

After about twenty seconds, Sorean had his decision. "I appreciate your input, Mr. Quince, but I disagree. Her hair does not need any extra accentuation. On the contrary, I believe a touch of a cooler colour on a headpiece would tie her overall look together quite nicely."

"But of course." The jeweler quickly put the pendant back and retrieved a silver tiara formed of two wing shapes with a circular wind gem between them. "The artificial wings of this piece are historically popular with Homs in Alcamoth."

"Indeed, this is quite fetching. But it would be even more so were it to be centred by a gem of ice. One's inner beauty is always focused best with a birthstone."

"Then allow me a moment." Mr. Quince replaced the tiara and walked into a back room.

It took a bit for Clara to realize why she felt the exchange was a bit out of place. "How did you know my birth-...oh, you probably saw the July on the form I filled out, right, okay never mind."

Sorean nodded. "Tell me, how much stock do you place into the practice of astrology?"

"Uh, well...not really. I mean, I don't really get the idea that if you're born just a minute later into a different month, your get a whole different personality." Her genre-savvy intuition struck. "But I know where you're going with this. You want to say it's a great omen that your prospective mother was born under the Elder constellation. Right?"

"You are correct. It is indeed a portent of future success in our endeavour."

_I'll take it I guess, but I still think it's pretty well bunk. A lot of stuff affects peoples' ether, bt it's hard to believe the positions of the stars could be on that list._

Mr. Quince reappeared holding a tiara that looked exactly the same as the previous one, but with a white stone in the centre instead of a green one. "Larudio mornale, Your Majesty."

"Ah, perfect." Sorean carefully took the tiara and gave it a thorough look-over. Satisfied, he held it out for Clara to take.

Apprehensive, Clara picked up the silver wings. It was a lot lighter than it looked. The round ice gem in the middle sparkled quite well; it was probably at least rank IV. She'd never held anything above rank II before.

She figured it was an appropriate time to ask. "Mr. Quince? What kind of gem is this, exactly?"

The jewler took a few seconds to recall. "It is a rank V Heat Sink gem, madam. Perfect for those who wish to keep a cool head in the most trying situations."

Clara nodded and moved the tiara up to her head. It was pretty easy to find the correct resting place for it - it fit onto the brim of her forehead with the band slipped under her hair. It felt a lot sturdier than the flimsy costume pieces she'd paraded around in during childhood Halloweens.

"Brilliant." Sorean had the largest smile seen out of him so far. It looked like he was trying to come up with something else to say, but wasn't succeeding.

"I couldn't agree more," said Mr. Quince.

Clara located a mirror on a near wall and turned to face it. She almost couldn't recognize herself by now; she looked so much cleaner and primper that it was hard to believe this would be a permanent look and not just a temporary measure.

"So where to now?" she asked. "Lunch, I'm guessing?"

Sorean checked the time from a clock on the wall. "Indeed, that would be best. Let us return to the villa." He turned to leave.

 _I wonder if this is normal for royals around here, to just leave rooms without saying bye to anyone._ Clara waved to the jeweler as she followed. She was pretty satisfied with the day so far, but she did have one question at the moment.

"What does...uh, what does "lah-roo-dee-oh-moh-rr-nah-lay" mean?"

"It can be translated as either "centrepiece" or "masterpiece", depending on the context." Sorean turned his head back as he lead her through the halls. ""Larudio" is the noun, while "mornale" is the adjective; Hightongue places the roles in reverse order compared to Common."

"...huh. That makes sense actually, to say what the thing is before you describe it." She paused to think. "Man, our language is weird. Adjectives come first, every letter makes a bunch of potential sounds, there's more spelling exceptions than rules...is your language any simpler?"

"In some ways. Notably, all consonants and most vowels make a single sound in all situations."

 _Man, I feel kind of excited about that, actually. Makes it sound easier to learn._ "Can we do some more alphabet practice during lunch?"


	4. Introductions

Lunch was some sort of two-fruit salad that had been prepared just as Clara and Sorean returned to the villa. They continued to practice memorization of the Erythscript alphabet in between mouthfuls. Some letters were easy - the B, C, M, P, Q, and X all looked reasonably similar to their Common counterparts. But the J happened to not be one of the several letters that resembled it, and the I and O were very easy to mix up due to appearing similar when mirrored. So far, it was a novel challenge as opposed to a boring slog.

Once lunch was over, Sorean returned to the day's business. "As you know, I have been attending to various duties while you have been undergoing your makeover this morning. Of most immediate relevance is that I have made appointments for you to meet the captain of the guard and the empress. In between those two appointments, we shall have time to complete your identity documents. And aside from dinner with the imperial family, that shall be it for the day."

"Okay then." Clara was a little worried at meeting the two bigshots; her mind rumbled with the fear of doing something wrong by mistake and being kicked out for it.

"We shall first meet with Ilo Theros, captain of the guard for a hundred and thirty years, in about fifteen minutes. This is merely to make his acquaintance; while I am sure he will have something to say concerning your safety and security, you have no obligations aside from your presence."

"Sounds good." _Shouldn't be much different than...uh, than captain what's-his-face in Colony 9. Theodore? Or was it Thomas? Ah whatever it doesn't matter anymore._

With nothing else left to do, the pair walked back into the palace proper, Clara carrying the envelope of identity documents and legal papers so she wouldn't have to come back for them afterwards. She was starting to recognize parts of hallways, though there was still long stretches of mystery in between.

It was easy to tell this newly-explored part of the palace belonged to the military; the proportion of guards and soldiers to other people in the halls was noticably higher, and the tension of upholding the chain of command could be felt in the lack of casual conversation. It felt like everyone who passed by was casting a critical eye on the new Homs, as if they wanted to commit her appearance to memory.

Sorean approached a door, its only identifying feature the emblem blazed across it, and gave it a solid knock. Only a few seconds passed before it faded away, revealing the office behind it: a practical arrangement of desk, chairs, cabinets, high-tech devices, and medals. The large man sitting behind the desk sure looked like an army veteran; his blue clothes were part robe and part armour, a scar ran down the left side of his face from ear to mouth, and the wrinkles in his forehead amplified the fierceness in his eyes.

"On time as always, Your Highness." His voice came across as trying very hard to be cordial instead of gruff, and his face was similarly attempting to smile in defiance of life experience.

"Naturally." Sorean extended his hand towards the man. "Clara, meet Captain Theros."

Theros stood up, walked around the desk, and extended his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Thank you." The subsequent handshake scared her; she could feel he could crush all her fingers if he wished.

As Sorean remained standing by the door, Theros invited her to sit down in the guest chair as he returned to his own chair. "Now I'm sorry to bore you, but as part of meeting you, it's my duty to inform you of the less glamourous facets of living here in Alcamoth while preparing to become a Second Consort. If you may hold your questions until the end of my address, it would be appreciated. Understood?"

"Okay."

Theros nodded as he began his speech.

"It is an unfortunate reality that there exist many people who do not approve of the nature of the position of Second Consort, and it cannot be understated that a lone Homs in Alcamoth is a very real target for discrimination, hate, and violence on behalf of those who so blindly believe in pure-blood superiority. As captain of the guard, it is my duty to ensure your safety for as long as you live within the confines of the palace. Of course, I cannot do this alone, and I have very many other duties to attend to. And so, I must ask that you comply to the restrictions I set. You are to remain inside the palace walls when not in your villa, your existence hidden from the populace, for the time being. In addition, you are not to wander the palace alone; you must be accompanied by myself or His Highness Sorean, as well as anyone else he informs me is sufficiently trustworthy. Even within our ranks, acceptance of Homs is not complete, and I am sad to say that traitors are not unheard of. Do not trust _anyone_ who you do not know, regardless of whatever authority they may claim to have, unless myself or His Highness states otherwise. I know this sounds rather harsh and suffocating, but several times in history have promising Second Consorts been killed by extremists before they could even produce one heir, and in today's day and age we have no excuse to allow it to happen."

"Of course, leaving you draped under such an ironclad blanket will do you no good in the long run. Therefore, I am currently looking for a party of trustworthy men, a group of three or four, to form your own personal cadre. They will undergo a most rigid screening process with the finalists handpicked by His Highness himself. I expect this process to take a few weeks, and certainly no more than a month. It is our hope that while they protect you from the evils of our world, you will grow to see them as friends. Once your cadre is formed, you will be given permission to traverse the palace with no one but them alongside you, and not long after that, the city outside the palace."

"Have I made myself clear?"

"...uh...well..." Clara didn't really want to get any deeper into the subject, but it seemed like a bad idea to not do so at this time. "Is...is it _really_ that bad? I mean, I can get you might be exaggerating a bit to be safe, and that's fine, but...several times in history? I mean okay how long's that history? Is it thin or dense? When was the last time someone got killed?"

"More recently than we would like to admit." Theros took a deep breath and stared at the far wall for a moment. "Cassandra was a gift from the Bionis. A traveller from Colony 7, she devoted her life towards reaching and exploring the Bionis' head. She was starstruck by discovering Alcamoth, and naturally assumed it was some sort of paradise. But she found nothing but disdain and hatred inside, the people giving her no respect or hospitality. It was pure chance that the imperial family found her before it was too late and took her in, deciding her coming to Alcamoth was no random event, and began grooming her to be the next Second Consort. Her prospective husband very quickly fell in love with her, setting the stage for a fruitful relationship. Yet mere months later, she was slain by terrorists in a suicidal attack on her villa. Some say that the heartbreak still lingers over the palace to this day."

It was a harrowing story, and the level of detail suggested to Clara that it didn't happen very long ago at all. Her optimism took a hefty hit; if it had only taken a few months for this Cassandra to be killed, the necessary three or four years before she'd be ready now seemed like an eternity.

Theros tried to calm the nerves. "I sense you are nervous about the historical bloodshed of your position. It is only natural. But rest assured we will spare no expense in the fight against bigotry and racism. You may not yet be married into the imperial family, but we will protect you with equal importance and ferocity." He paused to consider if there was anything else on his mind. "I believe that is all I have to say. I wish you luck."

"...um, okay, thanks." She slowly stood up and walked past Sorean out the door.

He placed a hand on her shoulder. "Do not fear for your safety. The incident Captain Theros spoke of sparked an overhaul in imperial security. Such an attack would never succeed today."

Clara was not convinced; she could tell his voice was a little hollow and regretful, and strongly suspected that Cassandra was his previous attempt at a Second Consort.

The next half hour was quite boring. Returning to the presently-fully-staffed immigration office, Clara had her picture taken and body scanned from several angles, with her mugshot and biological details being added to her identity documents. Sitting still while being virtually poked and prodded all over gave her far too much time to think about what she had just learned, sprouting reluctance and paranoia all over her mind.

Once the process was over and she left the office, she felt she had to make her feelings known. "I'm really worried now. Yeah I know I'm _probably_ safe, but it's still crushing my head to know there's going to be bad guys after me."

Sorean nodded slowly as he slowed the pace back to the villa, where the documents would be left before heading to the Audience Chamber. "A rare danger is no less of a danger; only the foolhardy would not be concerned. But there is an ebb and flow to the ire of our detractors, and we appear to be on the verge of a fortunate time: transgressions against the empire are on an increasingly downward trend. And- ah, your timing is impeccable, Yvonne."

Leaning against the right wall of the hallway was a woman who looked somewhere in her fifties. She stood out from the people around her for several reasons. Firstly, she was a Homs; her hair was a brilliant red, shaped into a long braid and wound around her right arm all the way up to her wrist. Secondly, she was dressed quite unusually, with a collection of metallic trinkets hanging off every part of her vibrant green robe. Finally, perched on her round face were a pair of glasses with massive silver-framed lenses, large, thick, and tinted purple.

Clara's immediate reaction was that this Yvonne looked extremely out of place; she belonged more at a flea market or fortune-teller's hut than in a royal palace. As a result, she was pretty confused when Sorean addressed her with familiarity.

"I presume you wish to meet Clara, my future Second Consort?" he said.

Yvonne smiled almost mischievously as she stood up with some exertion. "Of course, Your Highness." She approached Clara and extended her hand. "It is most agreeable to meet you in the present, miss Apiar."

Clara shook the hand, a straight face trying to hide her bafflement. _How does she know my last name already? What does she mean "in the present"? Why wasn't I told there were other Homs here?_

"I am sure you have many questions," Yvonne continued. "And I could answer them...if luck were to smile upon us. You see, I am the imperial seer. Glimpses of the future strike me like lightning from a cloudless sky, delivering knowledge that me and my ancestors have used to protect the imperial family since unrecorded history. Sometimes, I must rush to impart my insight before it is too late, but other times I am forced to keep quiet to avoid interrupting a bright future." A poignant pause. "It has been nice to make your acquaintance, but I must be off...I have many things to do. May I continue to see you in my visions for years to come." The seer slowly turned and walked away.

Clara was left highly confused. "Um...so...the empress puts stock in the idea of a seer?"

"You are dubious, and rightly so," Sorean concluded. "It is indeed difficult to believe that a single Homs bloodline possesses the power of future sight, and has maintained it over countless millenia. But to attribute the seers' success at predicting future events to mere luck is even more challenging." He predicted her next question. "It is unlikely you will see much of the seer over your time in Alcamoth. They tend to be highly reclusive, revealing their visions to none but the empress, and only when necessary. But I sense she has already given you a positive future merely by seeking out your acquaintance."

Clara nodded carefully. The idea that the future could be forseen bothered her, but she figured (or rather hoped) that within a week she'd forget that a seer existed.

There wasn't much time to dwell on the subject. After returning the papers to the villa, there was only a few minutes of downtime before the duo had to set out again, this time for the Audience Chamber to meet the empress.

"We are in a unique situation," Sorean said. "Normally, prospective Second Consorts are to the emperor or empress of the time, and having one's foot in such door before arriving in Alcamoth allows the bypassing of many formalities. But as I am merely the Heirmaster, we do not have that luxury to begin with. As a result, your introduction to Empress Entirmina must be as a Homs citizen would seek an audience: under strict and formal conditions."

_I guess that makes sense._ "Okay. So I guess I'll have to act all stiff and stuff? Look straight ahead, speak only when spoken to, that sort of thing?"

"In a sense." He extracted a folded piece of paper from his robe, which he opened into a perfectly smooth sheet and presented to her. "I have taken the liberty of penning a script for you. I suggest you follow it to the letter. Entirmina is just and will excuse honest mistakes, but any aides and ministers who happen to be present may be less forgiving."

Clara took the script and gave it a look-over. It was nice and short, suggesting the meeting would take maybe two or three minutes. Normally she hated to be told what to say, but this was one case where she recognized it was an advantage.

"Do not worry about this becoming a common occurrence," Sorean continued. "After the initial meeting, it is the empress's choice of whether to treat you with familiarity. I fully expect you to be on first-name terms very shortly."

It felt simultaneously giddy and nerve-wracking to realize that she was trying to befriend an empress on pretty much her first day in the city. It would probably be hard to keep a straight face during the whole process.

"Can we, uh, get going then? I don't want to think about this for too long."

"By all means."

The two returned to the palace. It quickly became clear to Clara that she was being led ino a more public-facing area, with wider halls, higher ceilings, and even more elaborate decorations. Upon reaching the Great Hall, she unconsciously stopped for a moment to stare across the massive room and its brilliant architecture; Sorean had to gently take her wrist and manually restart her movement towards the transporter at the rear.

The Audience Chamber looked no less impressive, with its glassy stairs and lustrous trims, acting as a very powerful distraction from the task at hand. It was however not difficult to register that the carpet leading to the throne at the end of the hall was lined with very stern-looking guards that could probably bench-press an Armu, most focused straight ahead but some staring directly at her.

Heavily distracted by all the new visuals, Clara almost didn't notice that Sorean had stopped beside her, and had to awkwardly catch herself to not walk any farther forward. Just before she could parse anything else, someone spoke.

"Greetings, madam. What brings you here today?" It was a powerful, refined voice that gave off the impression that this person was not to be crossed.

Clara found her focus and aimed it at the throne in front of her, a collection of tall golden crystal-like prisms. Seated inside the open ring was a woman who looked to be in her sixties, wearing a complex robe of vibrant blue with golden trimming. Her waist-length hair was collected into dozens of tiny braids, some of which wound around the ornate crimson tiara of spiral designs placed on her head. Being seated made her wings seem extra large, almost like they didn't belong on someone of her size.

After staring for a few seconds, she snapped to her senses, looked at the top of the script, and started carefully reading. "Greetings, Your Majesty. I seek nothing but to make an acquaintance, on the grounds of striving to marry into your family as Second Consort to Heirmaster Sorean."

The empress nodded and almost smiled, as if she had known so already but was happy to hear it from the source. "Then well-met to you, prospective consort. I am Empress Entirmina Antiqua, first daughter of Delus and Verila, and holder of this throne for two hundred and twenty-eight years. What is your name?"

Clara saw that the script gave her a choice of two sentences, and picked the one that didn't involve reciting her parents' names. "My parents named me Clara Apiar twenty-five years ago."

"Very well, Madam Apiar. I welcome you to Alcamoth and your new life among us, and you have my blessing to proceed in your journey." Entirmina tilted her head a bit and raised her eyebrows, suddenly giving off a more personable vibe. "I invite you to dinner tonight. I look forward to hearing all about my future sister-in-law."

The script did not account for a dinner invitation. Clara's mouth twitched for a moment as her mind changed gears. "I would be...delighted to accept."

"Excellent. I shall see you there. Have a fine afternoon, Madam Apiar."

"Thank you." Clara stood still for a moment wondering how to break off; it felt like a bowing situation, but she didn't have to do so on entry so probably not. Was it safe to just turn around? Sorean appeared to be doing just that, so she followed suit. Not hearing any gasps of offence or mumbles of disgust, she started walking alongside him back out of the hall.

Only upon reaching the Great Hall did she realize the worst was over and finally exhale. _Woah, that was harrowing. She went off-script on purpose, to judge how I'd react. But I think we're good now._

Sorean seemed to read her mind. "I had my suspicions that the empress might force a bit of improvisation your way. She does have certain...mischevious tendencies at times. In any case, that was quite a successful first impression. And to our luck, no others of importance were present to sour the moment. Everything we have done so far today has gone very well."

_Well the day's not over yet._ "So it's a few hours before this dinner then? Anything special I have to do to get ready?"

"No. Our daily meals are just that: not accompanied by any special rituals or expectations. You will need nothing but an appetite."

"Great. I need to just sit down and rest my head for a bit. I'm guessing it'll be at six-ish?"

"At six precisely. I will come to the villa and collect you with ample time to spare."

"Well, I guess we're heading back there then."

* * *

After a day of being focused on by so many strangers, it was a relief for Clara to just be alone for a while, pacing around the villa and trying out every seat. She took the radio from the fourth floor and carried it around as she wandered, listening to a news channel to get a feel for current events: rumours about taxes being raised, complaints that kids weren't being taught enough math, celebrities doing celebrity things. It was all surprisingly normal-sounding; if she could take the names of people and places out of the equation, it could be passed off as news from Colony 9.

Once she was done with the news, she tuned into a station that was playing classical music and considered what to do next. The bookshelves didn't appear to contain anything written in the Common alphabet, and without Sorean present there wasn't much she could do on the language-learning front. She couldn't try out the computer for similar reasons; the keyboard was not only in Erythscript, but the keys were in a completely different layout than the typewriters in Colony 9 she knew how to use. It also felt like a bad time to explore the television - maybe after dinner.

After a significant amount of pondering, she hit upon an idea - write a letter to her parents. She had told them before she left that she'd try to write but there could be no guarantees; now that everything was going smoothly, it was the perfect opportunity.

Clara settled into the desk on the fourth floor and quickly found paper, envelopes, and fancy pens. After spending some time considering what she'd already told her parents, and what she might or might not be allowed to say about Alcamoth and the imperial family, she began writing.

_Hi Mum and Dad!_ _I'm excited to be able to write to you so soon, I thought it might be a while before I could find out a way to do it._

_I've only been in the city for a day so far, but it's absolutely incredible - it's like a tropical paradise up here. The food is great, the people are excited to see me, and I've been given a whole new wardrobe! I wish you could come and visit, but security's so tight it'd never be allowed. Besides I wouldn't be able to get you out of here with a crowbar!_

_Sorean is a bit distant, but I think it's just because he's been busy getting things ready for me. He seems to be really looking out for me, giving me a lot of what I want as well as what I need. And I don't remember if I've already told you this, but he already has a son. His name is Kallian and he's your typical reluctant teenager. I won't be having my own kid for a few years - social rules and all that - but it'll be a fun challenge to deal with Kallian until then. I haven't met the rest of his family yet, but they all seem pretty nice at a distance so far._

_I probably shouldn't be sending you too many letters, people here are real paranoid about other colonies and I don't want to get on anyone's bad side so early on. And in the same way I can't be giving you a return address, at least not right now. (I don't even know yet how they address things around here!) But I'll try to keep you posted about major things that happen._

_Don't get too lonely without me!_

_Clara_

After staring out the windows for a while to clear her mind, Clara re-read the letter a few times. It seemed safe enough, with no indication that anyone was not Homs or that Alcamoth was technologically advanced. Satisfied, she sealed it in an envelope, addressed it, and attached a stamp featuring Entirmina's portrait. It felt weird for a stamp to display someone she had met personally; most Homs stamps were of famous generals and warriors of past battles with the Mechon. She presumed there was a post office in the palace somewhere that she could deliver her letter to.

The clock read five, meaning it was probably a bad idea to begin anything else too involved before the dinner. Becoming somewhat bored, she decided to take a look in all the kitchen cabinets she hadn't yet opened, as well as fishing through the bathroom cupboards to find the products the barber had recommended to bring them to the front.

The realization struck that the next few weeks would probably be pretty boring in general - other than use the radio and the television, all she could really do was learn the language. It might be a month or two before she could unlock any of the books, and she didn't really have anyone to talk to yet. It sucked a little, but it'd just be a few weeks - a lot less than the four years she'd already wasted.

Once five-thirty arrived, so did Sorean. Clara took her letter and went to meet him at the entrance of the villa.

"Good evening, Clara." Sorean looked at the envelope in her hand. "I see you have written a letter. To home, I presume?"

"Yeah. Mostly saying I got here fine and things are going well." Something occurred to her. "...The Nopon Postal Guild does come to Alcamoth, right?"

"Indeed it does. It has always been possible for mail to travel between our city and your colonies; there has simply been very little usage of such networking."

"Great. So do we have time to deliver this before dinner?"

"Of course."

Sorean led the way through the palace towards the imperial mailroom. Behind the counter of the smaller-than-expected room, a purple-robed man who looked forty-something to Clara's Homs eyes was busy weighing a package.

"Ah, good evening, Your Highness." The postmaster wrote down a number and moved to a second package.

"Good evening, Mr. Theki." Sorean stepped aside.

Assuming she had to do it herself, Clara moved up to the counter. "Uh, I'd like this delivered."

The postmaster looked her over for a moment before cautiously taking the letter from her hands and reading the address. "Very well, madam. I will ensure this passes into the right hands."

"Thank you." Clara figured nothing else needed to be done, so she turned and left.

Sorean gathered her from just outside without a word and continued directing her through the halls. After what felt like a fair distance, they turned into a door near the middle of a hallway.

It was pretty clear that this was the dining hall reserved for the imperial family's private day-to-day meals as opposed to royal events. Unlike the rest of the palace, it appeared to be designed for function over form; while impressive landscape art hung on the walls, the floor was bare aside from one square table and eight chairs, which were relatively simple in design. The tablecloth had five places set.

"This shall be your seat." Sorean pulled out the near chair on the left side of the table. "I shall sit on your left, and in clockwise fashion will be Entirmina, Yumea, and Kallian."

"Okay then." Clara had wanted to sit beside Kallian instead of diagonally across from him, but she knew from the start that it was a bit of a pipe dream. "What _is_ for dinner, anyway?"

"I do not know. Setting the menu is the empress's prerogative. As she knows of your introductory presence tonight, I trust it will not be something of exceptionally exotic taste."

Clara sensed that someone else had entered the hall. She turned around to see Kallian backing off slightly towards the outside of the door frame, as if he did not expect her to be present.

"Hello, Kallian. How are you?"

Kallian looked past her towards the far wall, close enough to eye contact that he might be able to fool his father. "I am fine."

"That's nice to hear." She knew he would be pretty aloof towards casual conversation with her, but she had to start needling her way in. "Did you do anything interesting today?"

She expected a curt "no". To her surprise, she got a whole lot more.

""Interesting" is a point of view. What is of interest to you is likely to be a typical, daily task of drudgery for me that I have no reason to recall once it is complete. Indeed, one could say that the vast majority of my life would be interesting to a Homs, and potentially interesting to a citizen of Alcamoth, but on the whole it is quite boring to myself."

It was a fascinating statement - unexpectedly forward and honest, but with undertones of being an excuse to never provide a proper answer to the question.

_He had that prepared,_ Clara thought. _He knew I was going to ask the next time I saw him and devised an excuse accordingly. And...it actually makes quite a lot of sense. Hmmm. I'll have to ask more specific questions to get anything out of him, but I can't really do that until I know what specifics there are._

Entirmina was the next to enter, wearing a broad smile and moving surprisingly smoothly for her age.

"Ah, it's nice to see you again, Clara. How does Alcamoth suit you so far?" She carried a much more natural and friendlier aura than when they had met in the Audience Chamber; it gave off the impression that she didn't like the required stuffiness any more than those who met with her.

Clara felt a bit uneasy with the stark difference in attitude, but tried to push past it. "Pretty well I guess. It's a maze in here though, I'm definitely going to get lost at some point."

"Oh, we all have." Entirmina pulled out her chair and sat down, implying everyone else should follow. "Perhaps not at your relative age, but...The palace was originally designed to be spectacular above all else. Some facets of its design are nothing but inconveniences in today's day and age, yet attempting to change anything without a clear reason is met with pushback from many. Learning to navigate it is no small feat."

Following everyone else's example, Clara sat in her assigned seat, which despite its simplicity still felt both solid and soft. It felt like she was supposed to maintain the conversation, so she quickly cast her mind around and landed on something previously unrealized. "You mean, like how it feels like everything important is all spaced apart?"

"Precisely. Did you know that the five royal bedrooms in the palace are placed at maximum distance from one another?" Entirmina shook her head as if the idea still surprised her. "Such an inconvenience for anyone wishing to meet with another member of the family, or for quickly collecting everyone together. But it means that no matter how much of the palace is destroyed by a single catastrophe, there is always one room and its occupant remaining, and so despite the unreasonableness of such paranoia, it remains unchanged."

"So tradition is the big thing around here?" Clara tried to remain undistracted by the silverware placed on the table, which each had a row of feathers etched into its handle.

Sorean nodded. "Indeed. Our long lifespans may shower us with wisdom and experience, but they also curse us with complacency and stubborness. We may possess extraordinary technology, but to an extent it is despite our longevity and not because of it. If the Homs were not so occupied with the Mechon, who knows how quickly they could catch up to us."

"...yeah, about that. How come you just sit up here in Alcamoth and don't help us out with the Mechon? I mean I get you like to keep to yourselves but wouldn't it help everyone in the long run?"

There was a pause as Sorean gathered his answer together. "The public does not want us to enter such a war, and would revolt at the idea. Furthermore, it would only encourage an arms race between us and the Mechon, with the Homs caught in the crossfire. The current situation of a reasonably stable stalemate is the best we can hope for - until we can finally convince the people that the Homs are worthy allies."

Clara looked up to find a clock on the wall opposite the door, reading two to six. _I'm guessing the food will arrive at exactly six. Man I'm actually kinda hungry. I hope it's a bit spicy, it'll make whatever the drink is taste bet-_

A sharp gasp pierced the room.

Turning towards the door revealed it to have come from a woman of about Sorean's age. She was wearing a pompous dress of a heavily desaturated indigo and silver, with the most attention being drawn by her highly padded hips. She had more makeup on her face than the rest of the room combined, as well as fake nails that looked more dangerous than attractive. Her hair was tightly wrapped into two shoulder-length tails, and her feathers glistened as if they had been covered in some sort of reflective powder.

"Ah." Sorean moved his arm to present Clara. "Yumea, this is Clara, my future Second Consort. Clara, meet Yumea, my First Consort."

Yumea stood rigid for a moment before slowly nodding, with no expression on her face. "I see, very well. I welcome this new addition to our family." She came to sit in her seat without acknowledging the Homs' presence.

Clara's first impression was less than ideal. _She seems like a high-and-mighty stuck-up, not open to change in any way.  
_

"Forgive my surprise." Yumea spoke in a flat tone without attempt to make eye contact. "I have been beset with such stress over the past week that it slipped my mind a Second Consort was being procured."

Sorean looked surprised and concerned. "I was aware you sought isolation for the last few days, but to forget your own suggestion? Are you quite sure you are sound in body and mind?"

"I have seen the doctor. Any affliction I may have had is regressing quickly." She clearly considered the matter closed.

Before anyone else could discuss otherwise, the food arrived. Half a dozen waiters brought in reasonably large plates graced with what appeared to be roast Tirkin, a gold-coloured vegetable cut into carrot-like slices, and a lump of mashed Airy Potatoes; tall glasses of milk were also served.

Clara's eyes lit up. Bird was her favoured meat, and she could almost smell the sweetness coming off the sliced vegetable. It took a bit of effort to not dive in immediately, instead politely waiting for someone else to go first.

To her surprise, there was no pre-meal ritual or anything. The moment everyone had their plates, Kallian showered his food with salt and began taking apart his bird, with the others (less vigorously) following suit. Glad that there was no extra social baggage, she happily joined in. It was delicious.

After a minute or two of no conversation, Entirmina leaned towards Clara a bit. "Well? No comment on the dinner?"

"Oh um." Clara cleaned out her mouth a bit. "Er, it's really good. Pretty much all stuff I like, with bird meat, something sweet, and...uh, these Airy Potatoes are a lot nicer on the mouth than the Cool Potatoes I know. Actually, I have a question. Why milk? I mean don't get me wrong I'm more than okay with it. I just figured...milk doesn't really seem like a royal drink to me."

"You expected something akin to wine or cider, correct?" Sorean answered. "We do indeed enjoy such drinks on occasion, but to partake in them daily would dilute the enjoyment. And of course, not all of us are old enough for it outside special festivities."

A pout formed on Kallian's lips for a split second, though it quickly vanished as he continued to shovel food in. Clara guessed it was because he didn't like to have his shortcomings pointed out.

"Should you have any other questions," Sorean continued, "we are always happy to respond."

Clara had two questions that jumped to mind right away. "Well, here's one." She turned to Yumea. "So...you were the one who decided that now was a good time to look for a Homs consort?"

Yumea made an almost imperceptible nod. "Correct."

Sorean added to the short answer. "While it was Yumea who suggested that now was a good time, the seer added her input by directing me to your colony. And I daresay that these two instincts produced an exceptional result."

Clara nodded and moved to her second question. "Okay, so, there's something else...so Kallian's not the son of the empress, but he's still the prince? How does that work?" She recalled being told something about the empress being infertile, but not why she couldn't just pass the title to someone who wasn't.

There was an unsettled pause around the table.

Entirmina was the first to break it. "It is a long story, and difficult to explain to those who are not attuned to our culture. Are you sure you wish to know now?"

"Well uh...well I think it might be a good idea. I mean, to...to start _getting_ me attuned. And I like a good story."

"Very well." Entirmina gathered her thoughts and began.

"Three hundred years ago, there was Emperor Camberole, who had a brother and two sons. The sons were of similar age, and embroiled in a fierce but good-natured competition for the right to be heir. But tragedy struck, and the Emperor and his sons were all killed in a nebula explosion. Only his brother, Delus, remained to take the throne. After taking time to recover from the event, he fathered me and began his search for a Second Consort. Unfortunately, he did not succeed in reasonable time, and was resorted to fathering Sorean as a second child of the First Consort. But more importantly, he abdicated the throne to me while still alive, in order to spend time with Sorean. Many believed this to be a hasty decision, but none were willing to dispute it."

"You see, the structure of our imperial bureaucracy is complex and resolute. The rules for when it is and is not acceptable to pass on the throne while still alive are inconsistent and full of the ancient ways of thinking. For now, all you need to know is that our situation resulted in Delus making a _kaleta_ \- a decision of honour. To make a kaleta is to place the honour of your person and your name upon the result of the decision. By the same token, to question a kaleta is to call forth dishonour upon all that the person is, was, and will be. With this in place, very little dissent of his choice was heard through his final years and past his death."

"When it came time for me to bring forth an heir, the news was crude and final: my body is infertile, and no amount of medical intervention can solve it. But I could not simply pass the throne to Sorean, as this would be questioning our father's kaleta - implying that he made the incorrect choice in bequeathing the throne to me. And I could not do so for as long as I lived; the throne could only pass safely upon my death."

"Being only fifty years apart - about eleven years to your Homs mind - it was far too likely that Sorean would pass first and leave me as the last of the imperial line. And even if not so, he may find himself too aged to produce even a single heir. Consulting the annals of history, we found a mere four cases of similar infertility against a kaleta, all of which were swiftly resolved by shattering the kaleta and leaving the parent to be dishonoured for a decision they were ultimately and unknowingly insufficiently informed about."

"We decided that this was unacceptable and began to take action. For the next twenty years, we dug into the bowels of the bureaucracy to draft a solution to our situation. The concept was simple: allow a sibling of the empress to have heirs on her behalf should she be declared permanently infertile. But of course the old ways tower above even us. The lawmakers of both the past and present balked at drafting such a way to "cheat" a kaleta. The ministers frowned at any change to the ancient scrolls, no matter how beneficial it could be. But finally, after a great deal of effort and consternation, the Entirmina Amendment was ratified."

"And thus Sorean is my Heirmaster, still young enough to have consorts and heirs, while I continue to be empress and keep our father's honour intact."

Clara had been eating on autopilot while eagerly listening to the story. It felt like she missed a few details and might need to have it retold sometime, but the gist was clear: Entirmina and Sorean fought a bunch of legal and social junk to wind up with the current situation of "the empress is infertile, so her brother is having the kids". She suddenly felt kind of lucky at the empress's expense - had this not happened, Entirmina would have been looking for men to consort, and she would still be stuck down in Colony 9.

She felt obliged to comment. "That's...um...well, good on you for not letting the old dead guys boss you around."

Sorean chuckled. "That's what I like to hear. It is all that your presence here is about, in fact - the undermining of the old ways of thinking, to replace them with modernity for the benefit of all."

Clara noticed that, while most of the diners still had a minute or two left to go on their food, Kallian had cleaned his plate and was sitting patiently.

_Ah a perfect time to poke him._ "Kallian, do you normally wait around for everyone to finish eating?"

Kallian stared off to the side, seemingly unhappy to be asked a direct question with no way to way to get around it. "No." He glanced at his father for a second and reconsidered his one-word answer. "But as this is your first dinner with us, I thought it respectful to do so."

"That's good." _I think I'll make it a goal to get one straight answer out of him a day. That's almost four hundred a year...probably a thousand by the time I'm ready to have my kid. Hopefully. That might be a bit too optimistic actually, but whatever.  
_

With the dinner winding down, a waiter brought another plate to the table, holding five chocolate-frosted cupcakes. Everyone took one with varying degrees of enthusiasm. Clara noted that while the adults carefully took bites out of the wrapped base, Kallian removed the wrapper completely and ate his with his fingers. She could sense a dirty glare from Yumea and suspected this was a common occurance. Finally tasting her own, she was delighted to find what semed like a blend of three chocolate tastes inside.

Entirmina was the first to stand up, and proceeded to approach Clara with hand extended. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Clara. I'm a busy woman, but I can't wait to continue having dialogues with you. The perspective of a frank discourse between us should be a fresh experience."

Clara figured she was to stand up as well before shaking the hand. "Uh, you're welcome then. It's...an honour to know you."

"Oh, the honour is mine. After all, there have been more empresses than Homs consorts." She made an almost sly wink. "Have a nice evening." Without further word, she left the hall.

Everyone else had stood up in the meantime. Kallian followed his aunt out quickly, clearly trying to slip away beneath notice. Yumea glanced at Clara with a stoic, blank expression before herself departing.

Sorean approached with a smile on his face. "I believe that went as well as could be expected. What do you think?"

Clara thought for a moment before responding. "Well Entirmina seems to like me and that's important. And it feels like Kallian's just...shy, really."

"Shy Kallian?" Sorean had a good laugh. "Clara, there are not many people who can restrain my son's arrogance and competitive spirit. Were you not present, he would have spent the dinner boasting about his scholarly successes and hobbyist pursuits. It is clear he holds no small amount of fear over the uncertainty you bring to the family."

"...if you say so. I mean the one I'm really worried about is Yumea. She really didn't seem to like me at all."

Sorean frowned a bit. "Yumea has always been a staunch traditionalist. I cannot deny her opinions have impeded progress more times than would be desirable. In fact, it was quite unlike her to suggest that it would be a good time for me to search for a Homs consort. Perhaps she is attempting to better herself by forcing the issue, and we should simply let things fall as they are."

"Hmmm." Clara didn't have a real response to the comment, so she changed the subject. "So what now?"

"I do not believe we should begin anything more tonight. The day has been busy, and tomorrow will be much of the same."

"Oh wow really? Just as busy as today?"

"In a sense. You see, all citizens of Alcamoth must be trained in the art of skydiving. It is not difficult to learn, but it will take the majority of the day tomorrow, and for several further days over the next few weeks."

"Skydiving? For if we fall off I guess? But won't we just land in the sea and be safe anyway?"

"Not necessarily. Falling from the city is such a rare occurrence that there is only a single transporter on the water's surface for returning, positioned in the centre of the city's footprint. You must learn how to control your descent so you land nearby it, as one cannot swim forever."

"Ah okay I get it." Clara thought for a moment. "So...what am I gonna do for the next few hours then?"

Sorean shrugged unconcernedly. "Perhaps you could read a book. You do possess a fair amount of them."

"Yeah, and they're all in...Erythscript, aren't they? I can't read them yet."

"Then it is a good thing I have procured this." Sorean reached behind his cloak and pulled out a book.

Amused that someone had eaten dinner with a book lodged against their back, Clara took hold of it. It felt relieving to finally see something in Homs lettering for a change: _To Sprout A Feather_ by Hilda Kel'toru.

"It is a book of memoirs," Sorean explained, "of Homs mothers of half-blooded children. I daresay it will be of use to you."

Clara smiled broadly.


	5. Accustom

Clara rolled out of bed with a grumble. It felt like every muscle of hers was sore. She slowly trudged to the shower and began trying to loosen them up.

The previous day's skydive training was not easy. It was clear from the start she was very much not a natural; learning to even hold a spread-eagle formation in the vertical wind tunnel was enough of a challenge, and she didn't yet have much luck in aiming her descent without tumbling like mad. A few more days in the coming weeks had been scheduled to continue the lessons, marked on a calendar on the fourth floor as days she was not at all looking forward to.

With the skydiving being such a challenge, the rest of the day was a write-off. After Sorean had escorted her back to the villa and declared that the next morning would be free time to allow recovery, she had eaten dinner alone and almost crashed into bed instantly. Even now she couldn't really remember what, if anything, she had done between dinner and bedtime.

After quite a long shower, Clara made her own breakfast and spent most of the morning reading the book of mothers' memoirs. She'd decided for her first reading to simply enjoy the stories as-is; any focusing on the details for pointers on her own situation could wait. So far, all the stories were of middle- to upper-class families - nothing from the royal family, which while not a surprise was still a bit disappointing.

Time seemed to vanish. It felt like only minutes before it was lunchtime and Sorean arrived, carrying a plate full of small clumps of meat and cheese on toothpicks.

"Good day, Clara," he said as he was let in. "I expected you to be taking it easy this morning, so I took the liberty of having lunch prepared in the palace kitchens instead of your own for minimal distraction."

"...wow, thanks." Clara was legitimately surprised; this felt like the first truly affectionate action Sorean had taken towards her that wasn't necessary as part of moving her into Alcamoth and getting her used to things. She led him up to the kitchen so they could get drinks to go with the food; she was getting used to her hew house surprisingly quickly.

After a few mouthfuls, Sorean laid out the plan for the afternoon. "As you are likely still tired and sore from yesterday, we shall be staying in today. We will practice some Erythscript, and I would also like to introduce you to the world of television, should you not have done so yourself already. Is there anything you would like to add?"

Clara did have something she wanted to bring up at the next opportunity. "Well...I've been thinking about what...what the captain told me." _Dangit, forgot his name. Something with a Th-? Oh well._ "And I feel like it'd be a good idea for me to learn a weapon. Or some sort of self-defense. Nothing major, just enough to catch the bad guys off guard."

Sorean put a hand on his chin. "Traditionally, only the heirs to the throne undergo combat training. But it is reasonable to provide you with a means of defending yourself." He nodded. "I shall see what can be done. I see no reason to deny you an abbreviated lesson in a small, easily concealable weapon. But of course this will take time out of all else you must learn."

"I'm fine with that."

"So be it. Do you have any further desires?"

"Uh...not that I can think of right now, but I'll definitely tell you if I come up with anything."

The next hour or so was spent practicing writing Erythscript. It was pretty tricky; with the exception of the S and Z pair, every single letter had its own unique curvature and pattern of intersections. It wasn't at all hard to draw squiggles that could be easily recognized as the letters, but proportioning them correctly within their conceptual boxes was a challenge. Clara expected that being in the royal family would mean her writing would have to be pretty crisp, so she figured a whole lot of practice was in her near future. Luckily, numbers were comparatively trivial, composed of only straight lines outside the zero and looking almost completely identical to the ancient numeral forms she already knew. In addition, from observing Sorean's signature, she strongly suspected that there was no cursive form of the script, so she wouldn't have to learn every letter twice.

Developing a sore hand was the catalyst for stopping; it had been a long time since she'd written so much. It kind of felt like she was back in school again. At Sorean's suggestion, the two went up to the fourth floor for her introduction to television, both sitting in the same couch in front of the large screen on the wall.

Sorean prefaced the exercise with a question. "You said that the Homs have not yet achieved transmission of images as with radio. But otherwise, what is the current state of your visual media?"

"Uhm, well... I mean, we have a cinema in Colony 9. The films are all black and white, but something the cinema owner likes to do is hold ether crystals up to the projector to paint colour over a scene. I think if someone figured out how to do something like that when recording we might get colour films. But yeah last I heard no one's got a clue how to send it through the air like radio."

"Do you have a preferred genre of film?"

Clara immediately switched from thinking hard to flowing freely. "You bet. Arids. Man, the sheriff busting into the saloon gets me every time. And the shootouts just...I dunno, seeing a pair of gunslingers trying to outduel each other is so satisfying."

Sorean had to think for a bit before he grasped the connection. "Ah, yes. We call that genre Northerns. It has never been quite as popular as other themes, primarily due to our gun culture being much weaker than that of the Homs."

"Yeah, I kinda noticed that too. A lot of Homs in the Defence Force have gun training even if they don't carry one around all the time, but all I see in security around here are rapiers and such." Inspiration struck. "Y'know, maybe I should have a gun then, have that be my surprise defence weapon. No one'll expect it."

"Indeed, that is a prime insight. But back to the subject at hand."

Sorean reached for a nearby end table and picked up a small handheld device covered in buttons. "Television is much like radio in that it is divided into many stations, numbered and named for recognition. But for the convenience of the partaker, you need not touch the device directly to control it: this remote control allows distant swapping of channels or manipulation of other features."

Clara had a thought. "Uh, so if it's so much like radio, why push me to use it for culture-learning instead of the actual radio? I mean, wouldn't it make more sense to start me with something I already understand?"

"That is a reasonable thought process. But not only is television both visual and aural, it is the more popular and varied medium. We have found that there is generally very little barrier for a Homs to understand it."

"Okay then." Clara cautiously took the remote held out for her. "So, um, what should I start with?"

"I have no recommendations. Follow your instincts."

Slightly nervous, Clara pressed only the button with a three on it. After a short delay, the television flared to life, lighting up a sharp blue before displaying a news program with two anchors at the desk.

"...another scoreless draw, coach Heruthio promises changes will be on the way," the middle-aged man on the left was saying. "And now for the weather, with Yaro Dat."

The camera cut to a slightly younger man standing in front of a large render of Eryth Sea from above, with semi-transparent clouds covering the sourthern side. "Thank you, Fev. It looks like we've got a decently-sized system coming in from the south over the next few hours. Cloud cover should reach the city at about three-thirty, with light rain on the way more into the evening. Expect a dull and chilly day tomorrow with a high of sixteen. Now for your five-day forecast..."

Clara felt like a whole new world had been opened up to her - this "television" thing combined the visuals of cinema with the timeliness of radio. She immediately felt herself desperate to try and find a movie on another channel, but held it in for now - watching the news would be more beneficial at the moment.

She watched the continuous news report for about an hour. Nothing particularly unusual was happening - it was all the same kind of news she'd heard on the radio before. But having visuals to go along with it made it seem more real, more like there was actually a living city outside the palace. After a bit, Sorean showed her how to activate the closed-captioning feature, which would theoretically help with learning to read Erythscript.

Sorean decided it was time to stop. "I believe that should be enough for now. There are other things to show you today."

"Oh okay." Clara looked over the remote control for a "power" or "stop" button, eventually correctly guessing that it was the uniquely-coloured one near the top labelled with a geometric symbol instead of a number or letter. The television faded to darkness.

"I recommend that you either use the radio or the television for at least half an hour a day, to both keep current on events and become immersed in our culture." Sorean looked toward the smaller screen on the desk across the room. "But for now, it is time to use the computer."

Presuming it would be the right move, Clara got up and moved to the chair in front of the computer desk. Sorean followed and chose to remain standing over collecting a chair from elsewhere.

"The computer is the pinnacle of consumer-level technology," Sorean explained. "Originally developed as a means to accelerate complex mathematical calculations, it now has a wide variety of features, including typing letters, analysing data, controlling databases, and virtual entertainment. In a sense, it can be simply described as a machine with a limited brain."

Clara wanted to ask something but forgot what it was after hearing the last sentence. "So, like a Mechon?"

"That...is a difficult question to answer." He gazed over the device. "It is possible, though difficult, for us to create a drone that behaves much like a Mechon. But we cannot say for certain whether it is inferior, equal, or superior, as it is almost impossible to hold a direct comparison. And despite the best efforts of our brightest and most brilliant minds, we cannot foster a true artificial intelligence, a consciousness more than simply a machine executing a complex series of instructions." He paused. "Some say that the Bionis itself prevents its children from creating artificial life. They believe that the answer, the key to truly living and thinking machines, is guarded by the Mechonis. And I daresay there would be no secret she would guard more fiercely."

_Uh, okay, that got a bit high-thinking fast. Back to reality please?_ "...So this computer. It can type letters like a typewriter?"

Sorean nodded. "Indeed. I will show you how to produce a typed document with it, and from there you should be able to explore more organically."

Clara watched intently as he pressed the key in the top-right corner of the keyboard. After a few seconds, the screen lit up and displayed a symbol resembling a circular skylight, with small Erythscript text quickly flashing along the bottom. A short time later, the screen turned to a lightly-clouded sky with several unfamiliar boxes and icons placed about, though now with the text readable to her.

Sorean tried to keep the technical details to a minimum as he explained. The base of the computer was called Skylight, version Aqua, with a relatively new feature for displaying text in Common (which could be disabled later if desired). The mouse, a previously-ignored rounded handheld object, moved a pointer around the screen and clicked on icons and buttons to make things happen. The program for typing was called Scribe and had many features that could be ignored for now.

Clara looked over the virtual sheet of paper on the screen, templated with the necessary constructs for a letter. Getting here was pretty complex and glazed her over a bit, but now it was just like a typewriter, though with the seemingly-magical ability to insert into or even delete existing type. It would take a bit to get used to it.

She didn't really have much idea of what to write, so she settled on a few pangrams she knew and started to peck. The keyboard labels were all in Erythscript, and from what she could tell no letters were where she expected them to be, presumably organized according to the Hightongue frequency chart. Much trial and error, plus copious use of the backspace key, eventually produced the intended result. She felt like this immediate feedback, more than anything, would help her learn the native alphabet.

After a bit of typing, she started to poke at some of the program's basic features. The ability to change the colour of the text amused her, while she figured the spellchecker would be the most useful. But while it was all very interesting, she was starting to get a bit tired of sitting around staring at a screen. She was still a little sore from yesterday, but she still wanted to get up and _do_ something.

"I think I'm done with this for now. If...if that's okay."

"By all means." Sorean backed away so she had room to get up. "The computer will turn itself off after a period of inactivity."

"Great." Inspiration struck. "I want to have a look at the garden, maybe draw some ideas for changing it."

Without waiting for a response, Clara took some paper and a pen and headed downstairs. On the way through the second floor, she took hold of the first book she saw that had flowers on the cover and continued down to ground level. Sorean followed without word.

The gardens were being watered when she arrived, courtesy of a series of rotating sprinklers stationed around the edges. Each nozzle was carefully configured so not a drop of water would fall outside the plot, guaranteeing that no observer could get wet unless they leaned over the boundary.

Clara spent the next while wandering around the garden, looking through the gardening book for ideas. She couldn't really read any of the text, but she could copy down the names of flowers she liked the appearance of, making notes about their style and colour. While at first she just wanted to get rid of the smelly Ether Roses and replace them with something else of similar colour, it didn't take long to draw out a rainbow spectrum of twelve different species, forming a radial gradient of colour across each quarter of the plot. It seemed pretty ambitious, but to an extent it felt like no possible arrangement was beyond a fleet of royal gardeners.

Sorean simply sat on a bench and watched Clara plan and dream. She wondered what he was thinking about; he couldn't just be doing absolutely nothing for this long. Maybe he was coming up with some gardening suggestions of his own.

Every now and then, she would look beyond the gardens, at the perfectly kept lawn, trimmed trees, and other non-flower decorations about the villa's grounds. Something in her mind felt that all that stuff was probably best left alone, that the gardens were the focus of the area and should be treated as the only customizable component. She wondered how much the place had changed across history - in theory, the villa would be empty for most of the time given the shorter Homs lifespan, so at least there was plenty of opportunity for a complete redesign between generations.

Clara spent the rest of the afternoon working on her gardening designs, wanting to start off her presence in the villa with a strong mark.

* * *

The dinner hall looked just the same as the last time Clara had been there, with every chair and utensil placed in exactly the same locations. It felt a bit surreal.

She couldn't just wait for the rest of the family without making conversation with Sorean. "Wow, it all looks exactly the same."

Sorean didn't shrug, but radiated an impression as if he had. "We hire only the top professionals to work for us. They would walk themselves out if one speck were to be out of place."

"Doesn't it get...I dunno, boring? If everything's perfectly the same all the time?"

"Utensils and furniture are not the focus of meals. As long as the food and conversation are unique, the rest does not matter."

"Well, I guess that makes sense."

Entirmina entered the hall, wearing a dress with a completely different design than the last time they had met, covered in swirls of several dozen blues. "Good evening, Clara. I presume you've been busy the past few days?"

"Most definitely." Clara quickly considered what-all she had done lately. "The skydiving stuff yesterday, and a bunch of...uh, technology introductions today. It's a process."

"It most certainly is, to learn in a few short years what those born here grow into over several decades."

Kallian entered the hall next, immediately followed by Yumea. It was clear that neither of them were very happy with the other at the moment. They both sat down in a huff without acknowledging anyone else.

Clara had been hoping to ask Kallian at their next dinner together if he knew anything about gardening or had a favourite kind of flower, but it looked like it would be difficult today unless the mood made a sharp turnaround.

With everyone seated, the food arrived in short order. Today's dinner was some sort of haddock with beans, potatoes, and peas. Clara didn't like seafood all that much, but it was still difficult to claim that this meal was not tasty.

The first sentence of dinner conversation went to Entirmina. "Clara, last time you dined with us, we mostly told you about ourselves. So how about tonight you tell us about yourself?"

"Uhm...well..." Clara didn't feel like anything she could say about herself would be of interest to anyone else, given that pretty much nothing from before a week ago mattered anymore. "What would you want to know?"

"Anything. It is not often we have a chance to converse with a Homs, much less one from ocean level. Your experiences and opinions alike are sure to fascinate us."

Clara nervously leaned sideways a bit. "Maybe...you could give me a place to start? I mean, something more specific than just anything."

Sorean had a suggestion. "What are your interests? If you had complete freedom without obligations, what would you do?"

"Well, uh..." She didn't want to spend too long thinking, so she started with what'd she'd done just today. "Gardening. I've never really had the chance to work with more than one box of flowers at a time, so having a big patch in front of the villa looks like a lot of fun. I don't really know what I'm going to do with it yet because...because I don't really know what's possible yet, I guess. Probably a lot of things. Right now I'm just thinking to throw down a bunch of different types and colours to figure out what some favourites are. Do...you have winter here, or is it just warm all year?"

"The Bionis' head does experience cooler months opposite the warmer ones," Entirmina answered, "and while it is not as cold as his legs and feet, it is enough for plants and animals to have a yearly cycle of activity."

Clara nodded. "Okay, so there'll still be some waiting around for the right planting and growing seasons then. I was hoping otherwise but not really surprised. I mean, I guess it would get boring if the weather never changed."

"If I may make a suggestion," Sorean said, "I would like to see some flowers from your homeland in your first designs. It will be no trouble for us to procure them."

"Oh really? Well...I was kinda hoping to fill it with stuff new to me to start with. But I guess a mix should be fine. Yeah, it'll be...fitting, and stuff, to bring in old things with new things. Put them together, see what works."

"Speaking of your homeland," Entirmina said, "I am interested to hear more about your family. I know you don't believe it is of much importance now, but we hold a firm interest in tracing the roots of our family tree as wide as can be known. After all, you will need to learn many intricate details of our family as part of your culturization here - now may be the best time for you to do the opposite, while it is still fresh in your mind."

Clara couldn't really disagree with anything that had just been said, and to be honest she did kind of want to get it out of the way early if it couldn't be avoided. She spent a moment to get her thoughts in order before starting.

"My dad's name is Ralph. He was in the Defence Force for a while as a soldier but lost his arm in an accident when I was nine, so he can't do much real work now. It was tough for him to just sit around for a few years before he got used to it, but it means I got to see him a lot more than before. Lately he's been trying writing and poetry but can't get much traction. He's got good ideas when he explains them out loud, he just can't get them down on paper right."

"My mum's name is Nee. She's been a cook for the Defence Force since Dad lost his arm, and sometimes a nurse if they really need it. I don't think she likes it very much, but I've never heard her complain about it, and as long as nothing major is happening she always gets a few hours during the day to be at home. She's never really told me much about herself before I was born, so I think she doesn't like her past, or something big that happened in it."

"I have an Uncle Edward. Mum's brother. He's a farmer, grows mostly vegetables, we don't really see him because he's always busy. I get the feeling he doesn't like us all that much, but it's hard to tell if maybe he just hates being disturbed or taking time off."

"I...guess that's it. I mean, there's my dad's dad, Hewitt, but he's been dead since I was seven. Any other grandparents I don't know at all, and I don't remember any other uncles or aunts or whatever."

"So you have no siblings?" Entirmina mused. "How unfortunate. I believe it is a great disservice for a child to be without brothers or sisters. I hope I can do enough to fill that gap in your life."

Clara didn't agree - she felt being an only child had its advantages - but felt it was best to just accept with a nod for now.

_Hmm. I could feel Yumea giving me dirty looks that whole time. She probably doesn't want to be reminded I'm not from a rich family._ She _wasn't born royal, right? Maybe I should show interest in_ her _family._

"So what about you, Yumea? I've heard the basic story about the imperial family, so what's yours?"

For a moment, Yumea looked even more offended that Clara had chosen to speak directly to her. But her face almost instantly returned to indifference. "I hail from the house of Ilura. In accordance with our impressive historical predilection of marrying into the imperial family, we sit amongst the noblest, wealthiest, and most influential families." She returned to her food, with no apparent interest in taking follow-up questions.

"That's...impressive." Clara felt obligated to at least respond, but couldn't see any reasonable way to get any further information at the moment. _Hopefully at some point she'll be less of a stuck-up towards me._

Already finished his meal, Kallian put his utensils down rather roughly. "Excuse me, Father, but I must go and continue working on my essay." He didn't wait for a response before standing up and hurrying out.

Sorean shook his head. "Yumea, why must you tread so strongly upon Kallian's choice of interests?"

Yumea's face stiffened. "He can report on the history of chess all he wants, but to shoehorn in research on any variants thereof from societies outside ours is a waste of his time and effort."

"That is one mother's opinion. Much like our societies, Homs chess is more similar to ours than it appears, and studying one can be equally as intriguing as the other."

A nasal scoff. "We shall see whether his instructor agrees."

Clara felt it best to not get involved. _Man, if only this wasn't my first month here, I'd be able to give Kallian a positive opinion that he might listen to. But right now I can't just go to his room and offer because he'll just shoo me off. And I don't know anything about chess anyway, so it'd just be generic stuff like "your opinion is fine" or whatever.  
_

"Mr. Eldor is somewhat of a loose grader," Entirmina said. "I'm sure you have noticed how well Kallian's grades have held despite his recent disinterest in the subject."

"Kallian's deprioritization of history does not affect his efforts," Yumea countered. "He is not foolish enough to stop caring."

Sorean noncommitally tilted his head back and forth, not wishing to extend the topic.

It didn't take much longer for the meal to conclude. After everyone stood up at about the same time, Yumea left quickly, still apparently slightly upset.

Entirmina looked to Clara. "You will continue to be busy for the next few days as well, I presume."

"Yeah probably. I figure it might be a week or so before I get actual not-exhausted free time during the day."

"Of course. I wish you luck in your continued learning." She left.

Clara turned to Sorean. "What kind of stuff do you do after dinner? I mean I'm guessing there's no royal business to take care of at night."

"True and false," Sorean responded. "I find the relative quiet of the evenings to be a perfect time to focus attention on certain imperial issues. But most of the time, we follow our own hobbyist pursuits. It would be short-sighted of me to try and explain what any other member of the family does. As for myself, I prefer to simply read."

"I...guess I'm not surprised. Maybe I'll be a reader too, since trying to garden after dark won't do much. Well, I can't read yet, but when I can." An idea. "Hey, do they put films on the...the television in the evening?"

Sorean nodded. "Indeed, it is the primary time to do so."

"Great, I'd like to go do that. Find something that looks interesting, turn on the...the screen words thing, it'll be kind of like reading."

"Excellent. I shall accompany you then."

"You...you will?" Clara's evenings had been spent alone so far, which had been a mix of relieving and lonely, so she didn't know what to think. "Didn't you just say you have other stuff you like doing?"

"It has been a great while since I have had the pleasure of sitting alongside someone who is experiencing a film for the first time," Sorean replied. "And you may need someone to explain idioms and references that are taken for granted. It will be a great boon to your learning."

"Well...alright then." It was an excited "alright" rather than a dejected one.


End file.
